a seabird's cry.

by hiraeth   Nov 28, 2020


sprawled across the bed, your bosom
rises and collapses, like your one deep
inhale/exhale away from the heavens,
and i mean that, in the most rhythmic
way possible. a soft melodious ode to
all things art – you are the churning of
of a soft, supple sea with water so clear,
you can see the seabed and waves form.
in your wake, i find verses to poems and
swim back to your clavicles, the safest
spot i know. i do not need to hold the
hand of another, because i don’t mind
drifting in your sea. i can ruminate some
more on the anatomy of your sea. foolish,
i know, you are transparent in every matter,
like glass skin, i can see where your worries
begin to surge, but i know nothing of the
mechanisms that cause your storms to brew.
i often dream of treading water at some cove,
waking happily, before anything can take place.
in sleep, i know peace.
with you, i know love,
or whatever it is, that i’ve come
to understand as love.

do the rains that puddle the red earth,
love the parched skylarks that greedily drink it?

is the sun that radiates warmth, in love
with the life that blossomed for it?

as much as i love to cup your waters,
with palms brimful of you –
my fingers prune, a tangible reminder
from you, to let you go. you’ve existed
long before me and will thrive after me.

you have a habit of spilling into every
room you’re in, ethereal in that sense –
you are the sea.

you’re what beckons poetry from
the hearts of lonely strangers like me -

except, we’re not strangers,
just on the cusp on becoming
them again.

5


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Latest Comments

  • 9 months ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    I would give EVERYTHING to hear this read out loud!

    A few thoughts here:

    "because i don’t mind
    drifting in your sea. i can ruminate some
    more on the anatomy of your sea."

    - I felt like ending the second line on "sea" again broke the flow for me. It seemed too abrupt of a stop as well.

    My favorite stanza and what felt like the strongest:

    "as much as i love to cup your waters,
    with palms brimful of you –
    my fingers prune, a tangible reminder
    from you, to let you go. you’ve existed
    long before me and will thrive after me."

    - I couldn't help but notice that the punctuation felt even more precise, the commas in the perfect place, where I could pause and have it feel natural. The humanity of this piece, in learning how to let someone go. I was reminded of the essence of love here that is more of an eternal presence. It's love that is manifested through us, but a love that will find its way to you again.

    The last three lines were heartbreaking, utterly heartbreaking. The complexity of emotions in thinking, was this only a stranger that you grew to love overnight? Or shared an intimacy that can't be easily forgotten? This could be a reflection on casual lovers, or an experience with them that opened you up to love, yet knowing they may not feel the same, and may move on the next morning, though you are unable to simply see it as a momentary feeling. You want to hold on, hence the pruning fingers, but you cannot keep something that wants to be free and may not have found their home and place of safety and rest in you.

    It also made me think of the love and passion and raw emotions being present in relationships, and the admiration, but not quite knowing how to express it other than these words, other than poetry that may or may not be passed on. And over time, the means to communicate become less and less clear.

    Either way, the introspection on what being "strangers" means, and the honesty and romance in your words, was incredibly poignant... even the title too and metaphor of her being the sea, omnipresent.

    Loved this!

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