The Rolling Hill - Amelia Furman
They said it would never work
just another urban school
hopeless, forgotten
a waste of time.
Colorless scenes of HUD houses
sit half-empty across from the school.
Children live there
move away
new families move in
like the freshly repaired garden
strangers pull apart in the dark.
And in the morning, children walk past
tangled heaps—roots, flowers unearthed
yet again.
a cruel cycle that never ends
Twelve failing years—
Principals spin on a turnstile
companies take over
another three years of failure.
New faces
same story
senseless epidemic
Children are present everywhere…but here.
Clad in blue and white prison uniforms
white bobby socks for girls
slender clip-on neckties for boys.
Walls are stripped, bare, beige—
institutional
Visitors are met with eerie silence
Children walk in shadows—
prisoners in pairs.
Older children escort the younger.
Discipline cards stuffed
in oversized shirt pockets
stained with grape juice, crayons
There is no running, no laughter
children learn here without sound
or voice.
Seth Darnall - Midnight Eyes
We call ourselves “drawn”. We are a group of faith based artists.
Here is a promotional video that was created for a recent show that we did for Media’s Second Saturday Art Stroll.
