A Hundred QuestionsA hundred questions in the room And on display, the chosen few: How can we turn the deadly tide? And will we spurn our toxic pride? But in my head, the only clue: I wonder, did she feel it too? A hundred questions for our time Some speak in sculpture, some in rhyme: How can we change our fate most dire? And can an artist still inspire? But more intriguing and sublime: How does she make her canvass shine? A hundred questions from the floor Like scattered gold upon the shore: How fierce the urgency of now? And can we turn our swords to plough? But all that I could plot and draw: Could we have met somewhere before? A hundred questions in the air Some speak of hope, some of despair: What if our waking is too late? And what’s the dream we can create? Some questions I could never share: But did she glimpse enough to care? A hundred questions from the fray Like puzzling games for us to play:
How poetry and science can meet? And will our planet overheat? Yet colouring my maze of grey: I hope we meet again some day?
Wayne Visser © 2009
A Hundred Questions (poem)
Seize the Day (book)