Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Scripture in the Sand

I met some island natives
The apple of their Eye
Was the city behind the setting Sun
Amid acres of rosy-red sky

Their skin the color of dreaming
Their hair like the lion’s mane
Their cloaks and dresses quilted
Out of freshly-fallen rain

Their village was built from yew trees
The stones were black and white
They fed off the fragrance of the air
And drank only cups of light

To speak, for them, was singing
To step forward was to run
They had heard of a thousand spirits
And that a thousand could be One

Their prayers were always earnest
They murmured through their ears
Laughing, it was all of their laughter
Crying, it was all of their tears

They had a certain scripture
Or a song, perhaps, in their hearts
Which spread through the soul like a sunbeam
Or a stag, when it leaps and darts

When each day was created
In the furnace of fiery dawn
One would look towards the scent of the ocean
And wander, silently, on

He would reach the beach and walk until
His feet touched upon the sea
Then kneel to kiss the damp shore
Which hugged his bended knee

Then the sunlight lit up the fingertips
On his gently outstretched hand
With it, he caressed the golden shore
And carved the Scripture into the sand

The spidery words along the coast
Would dance beneath the clouds
They were unfurled from around a beating heart
An opened book, an unraveled shroud

I watched this many mornings
But each day, the hungry tide
Would sweep away the hand-carved words
And cast my glowing eyes aside

I wept for the erosion of beauty
And for the loss of what I read
While I sat so still upon the beach
With a slightly bowing head

The natives saw me weeping
So they whispered unto me
That the writing on the golden shore
Was a gospel to the sea

So now I understand the stars
And the lines upon my hand
And love and death and sorrow
And the Scripture in the sand





Join the Discussion

This article has 12 comments. Post your own now!

Kestrel This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 5, 2012 at 11:06 am

"To speak, for them, was singing
To step forward was to run
They had heard of a thousand spirits
And that a thousand could be One"

This part is my favorite. You have a crazy way of making words make sense. 

 
IamtheshyStargirl said...
Jul. 26, 2011 at 1:18 pm
Ahhhhhhh, lovely. <a breath exhaled a spidery incense-smoke.>
 
Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jul. 26, 2011 at 5:00 pm

I float upon a thousand sighs, as they rise from the parted lips of the poets and the lovers, and that's how I keep the city behind the setting Sun in sight. Because breath is spirit, as you must know, and the spirit always yearns to rise.

Now, for a strange question (and one that probably won't mean anything to you): what are your thoughts of lampposts?

 
IamtheshyStargirl replied...
Jul. 26, 2011 at 6:51 pm

Lampposts are beacons, invitations to strange and magical worlds where they were planted into new born worlds as twisted weapons wielded by witches. The new born earth breathed new life into them, and they grew as wholesome and pure way-lighters. 

Lamp posts are also quite bothersome when the full moon is out, but as with all things, they are light and dark, like their black metal and shining souls.

 

(I do so love strange questions, few have the courage to ask ... (more »)

 
Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jul. 27, 2011 at 2:35 pm

I'm glad, you answered with your spirit. It's a bit difficult asking such questions, but it's even harder for one to allow their spirit to seep into the words which they project into the world.

Lampposts, I will say, have a very large role in my odd life; I have befriended many of them. They make excellent guardians, and they know quite a lot; for they are travelers, though they appear to be rooted in the ground.

 
IamtheshyStargirl replied...
Jul. 27, 2011 at 2:47 pm

Have you ever heard the Madness song 'Fallen For A Lamppost'?

 

That is beautiful.

 
Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jul. 27, 2011 at 7:41 pm

"Look, what have I become? Distancing myself so far and from
But gazing out I waved the night boat on, for now it's heaven in deepest Tottenham." I'll admit, it's not the kind of music I usually listen to, but I found it to be a great song. I spent a half hour looking over the words. Much madness is divinest sense, I guess. :)

Doth the Amoniel hear my call?

 
IamtheshyStargirl replied...
Jul. 27, 2011 at 10:02 pm

Madness is one of my many favorite bands. That particular song reminds me of Yellowstone, rain, and fence posts.

I think so, if you mean what I think you mean.

 
-leafy-This teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Dec. 22, 2011 at 10:58 am
Raven, I adore your quote in a thousand sighs. As I've mentioned this before and will say this many more times in the future, Raven, you always have a way with words. This poem was quite lovely and blissful, and it was a sad sight to see it close to an end.
 
Aderes18 said...
Jul. 22, 2011 at 3:51 pm
This is one of the most beautiful poems I have ever read in my life! It's a real pleasure to read your poems. :)
 
Thesilentraven This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jul. 22, 2011 at 5:57 pm
Thank you so very much! That means a lot to me; I spent many days writing this poem, and you're the first (as you've probably noticed) to comment on it.
 
Aderes18 replied...
Jul. 22, 2011 at 7:26 pm
You're welcome. :)
 
bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback