Where the Seabirds Fly

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Wed, 14 Oct 2015
  • 3237 reads
12 comments
 
‘Why can’t we reach you?’ they asked. 
‘Where do you go inside that head of yours?  
 
You weren’t always like this. Not in the past.
Remember? And now we’re sick of trying.’  
 
‘You push us away,’ said a friend,
who told me yesterday, ‘You see, 
it’s harder for us  than for you.’
 
If they only knew.
 
But I have too much to document...
too much to record...to write down...
too much to recall before I forget...
 
Lose what little there is left of you,
like moon-dust, filtering through 
my fingers. 
 
All I can do is to take
one step at a time and yet, where to,
is anyone’s guess.
 
I remember that day at the beach;
you – just turned thirteen. The first time
in a bikini; bashful as hell, you were,
as you undressed
 
had me stand at the water’s edge –
hold on tight to your clothes. I knew,
even then, where you were going,
I could not follow...
 
no more than I could – the thin,
white line of a petrel, as you sat on the sand 
as I dried you...
 
your head – shouldered and shy – skin
white – shining the strange light of seabirds
resigned to their own coastal reaches
 
tossing in their tides.
 
Certificate PG
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual
Nature
Love
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)

Comments

Submitted by Pat G on

It is a great title, as Bear says. A piece that sets me examining my own memories. I really love the lines:
"............................bashful as hell, you were,
as you undressed"

just perfecty expresses that age.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Appreciated, Pat. 

Tina

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Not easy to show friendship when someone is wanting to withdraw to private memories, but to show affection, and will be there when conversation wanted? Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

You pose an interesting and ongoing question, Rhiannon.  Your take on the given situation, spot on.

Tina

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

This is deeply moving and the vulnerability you can feel in your heart from that sea edge scene - I wonder, sometimes, about friends. I like the ones that can sit with you in silence.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

My thanks to you, Vera, and as you say, those friends we can sit with,  without words getting in the way are the truly special ones.

Tina

 

Submitted by Starfish Girl on

'Lose what  little is left of you, like moon dust, filtering through my fingers.'

Memories are odd things, sometimes we embellish them, making them more than they were but those simple memories, a snap shot of time and place, I think, stay with us in crystal sharp simplicity. As this memory. Keep capturing the moon dust.

Lindy

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

I shall try very hard, Lindy, to hang on tight to that moon dustsmiley and thank you for your much valued words.

Tina

 

Submitted by cassiegoeswild on

this is really moving and melancholy but also really beautiful with some really lovely imagery.

Cass

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Pleased you thought so, cassie.

Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

A beautiful...poingnant, reflective poem Tina. It certainly is hard for others to understand when our thoughts take us back to moments in time. I very much identify with this poem and glad I'm not the only one out there that feels this way.

Very much enjoyed reading Tina. May our memories always live on.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

I'll drink to that last sentence of yours, Jenny...most certainlysmiley

Tina