A Statue Speaks

A Statue Speaks The morning takes it's first breath of daylight Exhaling the sunrise that fills the sky with colored brilliance. Chirping often mistaken as singing by winged troubadours. disrupts the gloaming's silence Shrill announcement of their agendas prior to flight. I stand in bronzed stillness Aware of the onslaught about to befall me A daily routine of humiliation. Statues are City scarecrows . Just as ineffective as their country counterparts Pigeons are first to perch on my structure. Cooing laughter while they on my oxidized green copper surface. Their feces leaving white spots about my body As though I was infected with Vitiligo These rats without wings are indigent of respect I'm a creation of spirituality for Christ’s sake a pious image of an Arc Angel Crows and Magpies swoop in like gang members commandeering territory the Pigeons vacated in a cowardly fashion They squawk in triumph and sharpen their beaks on my alloyed body, committing the same sacrilege as the prior visitors Milky excrement drips into crevices slides downward scoring long white lines An expression of their contempt a display of discourteous action without apologies. The Bible contains many verses and references pertaining to their reverence. “Look to the air and the birds Your heavenly father feeds them.” But God like an undisciplined child takes no responsibility for cleaning up after their mess He’s occupied creating Divine catastrophes that doesn’t leave dirt under his fingernails. The day is evicted by the Sun's stealth exit a grey landscape surrenders to the night. Another vandal with equal disregard for public art employs a method of deviant behavior in contrast to the winged assailants. They're referred to as “taggers” The weapon they holster is a can of spray paint. scribbling nonsense and irrelevant messages containing misspelled words, profanities out of context grammar of an illiterate accompanied by hissing of the spray I’m transformed into a marquee Displaying their stupidity in color. Their graffiti leaves a scar difficult to erase I’m painted in areas that cause me to be embarrassed Enter the drunks, addicts, thieves, homeless and the mentally deranged Each group staging a unique performance. some voicing prayer like a child asking Santa for presents, believing that their requests will actually be answered. Assuming I’ve got a direct connection to God’s ear. Others curse, swear and scream at me with contempt suspecting that I am the cause of their misfortune. As if had a hand in their bad luck and demise They choose me to be the victim of their displaced aggression I am the one to blame. They reward me with piss and vomit. Breaking bottles against my metal frame. Under the cover of foliage behind me. Young lovers moan with pleasure from the engaging in sex. They scream with delight Young voices expressing the sensation Hookers provide discounts for acts of oral gratification. my stature keeping them hidden and undetected. I'm sentenced to constant exposure to the forces of nature. No matter the weather I stand vigilant braving the elements, being at the mercy of each season’s unpredictable climate . Assaulted without relief never provided with shelter against the atmospheric conditions. If in the near future you pass an anchored figurine. Take a moment to notice it’s grandeur, admire the curves, the expression, the attention to detail And comment on the creativity of the artist Now being aware of a statue’s stiff existence. Your appreciation will give purpose to it’s frozen pose. -- Judge Burdon