Vacant Mankind

1993

oil on canvas

68 x 54 inches

‘Till Human Voices Wake Us

By Tracy Bredow

1992

You know who you are.

Whispers resonate;

you are the daughters of your future

and the mothers of our fathers.

Whispers resist.

You know who you are.

Your body, the media’s vessel rented

for the political circus

religion and law under the big top.

A medieval fiasco where gender is tragic,

decisions about rolling heads made old Prufrock

leading the jeering crowds into hysteria.

You know who you are.

Bruising the face of femininity

the right to choose dangling from the vote of man.

Stealing the right not to bare his children

embracing the sacred boundaries

with love and fear and pain;

to prepare a face.  He will not be there

to murder and create

You know who you are.

To have or have not the privilege of maternity

in a tiny white room overlooking nothing.

An empty space where the echoes of being

and becoming take root;

pregnant women chasing oranges down the sidewalk

on black and white film.  Portray the infinite irony.

You know who you are.

Shackling the rights of the majority.

Abusing the breast of livelihood to feed the frustration

of patriarchal inadequacies.  In one swift judgement

the gavel falls.

Breathe life back into the oppression of the womb.

You know who you are.

The bearded lady passing out fortunes

as the woman in sequins hangs by her toes

from the high wire, her children dropping to the net below

curling their bodies into foetal balls.

Ease the impact of gravity.

You know who you are.

Persist the whispers

cast off the shadows of his robe

keep your yellow rain slicker for the day

when salt will rain upon old wounds.

Chore

Haagen Dazs

Reproduction

Lamb White Days

Hollywood’s Waste

Agitate

Campaign Salt Ad

Vacant Mankind