Who would have thought how far one can travel on the wings of poetry? This life continues to amaze me. Here I am, with my husband, Mark, and Miami‘s finest, Mayor Daniella Levine Cava. It was an honor to write and recite a poem for the 20th anniversary gala of the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts. Beyond the frame, I am also arm-in-arm with music legend, Gregory Porter. What a night! (Poem copied below!)
IMAGINE HAD WE NEVER HAD
by Richard Blanco
in honor and in celebration of the 20th anniversary of the
Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts of Miami-Dade County
Imagine us, not here tonight, had these seats
never cradled our love for the arts, had these
ethereal spaces never echoed the applauses
of our hearts, had these starry spotlights never
shined meaning on the stages of our lives, had
none of this ever been here to house our being.
Imagine us, had we never been transfixed by
the tenacious melancholy of operas’ arias,
had they never pulsed through our ears right
into our veins, had they never taught us how
to forgive all our shame and regrets, to live
and die singing honestly, beautifully, eternally.
Imagine us, had we never been entranced by
the daydream of ballerinas’ arms aflutter like
butterflies, and their arcs as graceful as swans,
had their pirouettes never defied gravity, never
interpreted for us the dance of our souls through
the gorgeous strength of their flesh and bones.
Imagine us, had we never been mesmerized by
the spells of jazz, possessing our bodies with
the sweet bellow of bass and piano’s tinkles,
with cymbal’s splash and sax’s smoky croons,
had we never heard the joy of improvising together
those songs our lives can’t quite play on our own.
Imagine us, had we never been enchanted by
the magic of musicals, had we never sung along
to the regrets and wishes of lyrics that rhymed
meaning into our unrhymed lives, or had we not
heard ourselves in characters’ lines that voiced
our fears and courage in dramas like our own.
Imagine us, had our souls never been raptured by
symphonies’ abundance, the champagne tones
of French horns with the angelic chorus of violins,
the cellos’ charismatic timbre with the melancholy
of flutes, even the triangles’ whimsical ping, all
indulging us with full sounds of a life truly lived.
But thankfully, what might’ve never been—is here,
has been for twenty years, a shrine to keep praising
the creativity that keeps us breathing as more than
mere mortals, keeps us reaching for the divine art
of stars aglow in us, keeps us gifting to the universe
the gift of the mysterious beauty we’re created from.