Poetry Without People

It is, of course, a hard time to start a photography blog about people when we are all physically distancing ourselves from one another and the opportunity to peek into a stranger's private moment is rare to come by. 

Today's photo speaks to this unprecedented and surely historical moment. 

I suppose I am grateful that my own children have outgrown the local playgrounds that are now bound with caution tape to prevent the spread of germs. The yellow streamers this morning as I walked my dog were heavy and unmoving with the residual rain even as a slight breeze blew, adding to the weight of emptiness that hung over.  But grown though my children are from sliding down the slide or rocking on the metal horse staked by a spiraled coil into the ground, I can still feel the profound ache for parents who cannot bring their children here. I hurt that this is the world we have given our children.  

But this photo...

While there is no physical person in the image, there are traces. Can you see them? The broken stream of caution tape; the disinfectant wipes that litter the ground below. Someone was here. Someone could not resist a moment longer from bringing their child outside, gifting them with the thrill of the tickle in your belly that comes with the swinging of up and down and of the air that can take your breath away for just that quick moment. 

And I am so conflicted. I sympathize -- I really, really do -- at wanting to sneak some normalcy and beauty into your child's life. I can imagine myself ripping apart the yellow tape with a fierce satisfaction for MY CHILD, INSISTING for a better world for my child. And yet, of course, the recklessness to this is inexcusable. The risks too great to ignore. For that one moment of pleasure, the dangers incurred are simply wrong. The defiance of this action punctuated -- seemingly purposely -- with the scattered wipes, left as a statement, certainly, when a trash bin was only feet away. 

We want freedoms for our children. We want playgrounds and playdates and proms and graduations for our children. We want them to have the opportunity to grow, to experience love, to live as they choose. 

This, though, was not the way. The poetry of the person in this moment achingly profound.