Our ‘spraypaint son’ has left the building.
In a 10 minute blitz,
The cans, a collection from a former life
Have gone,
Into a black bag of destiny.
I watch with conflicting emotion-
Relief, tinged with sadness
At this passing –
Remembering walks past street art,
Wondering if I would recognise his tag, his mark,
And whether I could let that not matter.
Yet awe- struck at the sheer audacity and courage
Of some of his commissioned public large scale works.
They were,
Still are,
Remarkable.
I think I would have been proud
Wanting to shout aloud
“This is done by our son!”
I never did see his tag
If it was there at all,
And now that moment has passed,
And I never asked.
Jo Hansen 