Rural Renaissance Art
On the rural frontier
When buildings fail
Or grow tired,
When bankers won’t lend
And insurance companies
Desert you,
When climate shifts
And ancient brick crumbles
When dark storm clouds
And harsh winds
Attack in the night,
When the soul screams depression,
Yet the heart and the spirit of youth
Still fight on against all that
Logically says, “Give up”
There stands the stubborn voice inside your head
That speaks to not giving in to the dark.
Against the grain,
Against the doubters,
Against the fear of failure,
Against the weight of changing economies,
Against the modern history of
“It’s only about me”,
A hand reaches toward the sky and proclaims,
It’s time to reclaim
Our community.
The hand clenches the paint brush,
With reds, blues, yellows, greens,
All primary colors
Painting a new band-aid on yesterday’s failures.
Hoping to buy time to rebuild.
Primary, in that we are back to basics
With the American experiment.
The paint job works as a platform
To make the statement.
No more looking backward.
No more giving in to what was.
No more asking permission to make brighter.
No more setting in the shadows of smallness.
No more being afraid of change.
With strength of hope,
being pushed by dreams of a better tomorrow,
America’s small towns raise the flag of a new cause,
Rural Renaissance.
This movement makes its stand
And takes its victories,
One old building at a time.