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Woman and Child at the George Floyd Protests, by Clay Banks
Learning to See
Sheila Robertson

​
Under a gold leaf sky
   I wade streamside with my camera
   through spikey reeds 
      swaying in a raft of light
 
Water slides over granite shelves
   splatters green beds of moss
      with liquid beads 
   hisses through rock clefts 
 
My shutter freezes a kingfisher’s wing
   a blue-grey up beat
   at the point of its dive
   and my heart catches with my breath
 
I follow the cascade of water 
   to a fall of curving stamens
   climbing the lime green throat
   of a blood red flower
 
I ride planes of light 
   absorbed in these holy moments
Wonder at so many gifts
   and slowly learn to see                                              

​Through other lenses
   I regard the larger world
A camera captures 
   the murder of a black man 
 
His last breath still warm 
   under a police officer’s knee
Three policemen look on 
And people find their anger
 
TV cameras record marches 
The screen repeats grainy photos 
   of buried history:  Ocoee Massacre
   Tulsa Massacre   Wilmington Massacre
​   
Crowds tear down hate symbols
   resurrect truth 
   tell their story 
       grief  pain  oppression
 
At this tipping point
   I hold my breath and hope
   that this tumult is also a gift 
Another that will teach us to see
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