The Writing is on the Wall

You’ve existed since man first doodled
from the sepulchres of ancient Greece
to the catacombs of Rome,
your inscriptions have shocked and awed in equal measure.

In your time, you have cursed,
cast magic spells,
declared your love
and quoted your way into our hearts.

Insightful and rude,
you are a law unto yourself,
anonymous
inspirational and disruptive.

Do you consider yourself to be art or merely a crime?
You are an offence, for sure;
your vandalism is punishable by law.
Yet, sometimes, you’ve changed the way we think.

When unscrupulous, you are
defamatory,
cowardly,
and simply nasty.

At your best, your visual expression
communicates political and social issues
like no other art form.
You are the true voice of the people.

I’ll never forget watching you on the news, that day,
when you covered a wall in Ireland
asking the question:
Is there life before death?

To me, Graffiti,
you were at your heartfelt best
on that day,
a day when you pulled me from the brink.

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