To See in Grays | Teen Ink

To See in Grays

March 16, 2010
By tompryz GOLD, Brick, New Jersey
tompryz GOLD, Brick, New Jersey
15 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I defy one to see in grays – as
such a yellowing shore is widening, but now
hear not the world without, hear
within, allowing the wind to breathe,
to blow the water back, and
wind amid a lifeless path, this path
is gold.
Are you of yourself, of I? Hand
in hand, and yes, and yes,
said I, said she, to live and err,
here I am born, and here I die,
beside the waves, within
the water.
And whence it turns, a loft and fall,
blown back as white, and now it is white,
dreamt and found, once more in heart,
in mind, the dying call of humans past,
to paint, to live and err again,
to brush your hair, from flesh to lock,
a subtle touch, by lip or sand, a softening
glow in clover bristle, one day of days? Perhaps.
Perhaps, it is, without a word, or words to be,
and silence is a native tongue – my beckoning coo.
I am of gulls. And you are of gulls, and we are
of gulls. Are white wings trifled? For wind in faith?
To call a storm and rippled seas? I am the wind
and wings don’t part, only spread and spread apart.
Be of a glare, through slickened eyes, I’m taught to
watch the water break, yet I am watched, thus
I must return, a sight for sights to catch your eyes.
And there they wake, past downy lash,
row for row on supple board – a bench, a seat –
that board on which you rest our legs
for legs are one, stand full alone
to stand on wood and metal bar,
to aid my rise, to halt my fall,
to walk among a man, the world,
and that is what it is to be, in all, in all,
in all, by both our human hands and skin, in all.
Such air is brisk, this month is broad,
it spells away a separate breed, those
who walk with ready hearts, and ready minds,
alone with one, one with another,
not bird nor beast nor wave nor other,
but man – yes man, with eager will
pacing down a sand-stepped shore,
a sand-strewn windowsill.
I hear a lonely choir on the shore,
wood and winds amongst their glow
to me? I ask, to sing to me?
They sing to souls of lonesome right,
sing into a starry night.
I believe they sing to me.
Yet not alone – there at my side sat another,
and next to her sat I,
and watching the water rise and fall,
and rise again,
we turned into eternity,
and slowly began to walk.


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