Jonathan Livingston Seagull

“They are saying in the Flock that if you are not the Son of the Great Gull Himself”, Fletcher told Jonathan one morning after Advanced Speed Practice, “then you are a thousand years ahead of your time.”
Jonathan sighed. The price of being misunderstood he thought. They call you devil or they call you god. “What do you think, Fletch? Are we ahead of our time?”
A long silence, “Well, this kind of flying has always been here to be learned by anyone who wanted to discover it; that’s got nothing to do with time. We’re ahead of the fashion, maybe. Ahead of the way that most gulls fly.”“That’s something,” Jonathan said, rolling to glide inverted for a while. “That’s not half as bad as being ahead of our time”.
Richard Bach
Jonathan Livingston Seagull

The Seagull Speaks Creative Commons Copyright

Creative Commons License
Original work on The Seagull Speaks by Michael A Wride is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Your Face, Your Smile

Here is a podcast of me reading this poem

Staring into the dark pools,
Of your blue eyes.

Pearls of pain were falling,
Tears of a terrible time,
Etched in the ice of your memories.

They froze upon your cheeks and glistened,

Glowed with the fragrance of the forgotten times,
We shared before the end.

And now,
I see your face,
In the depths of the roaring tide,
Staring up at me,
From beneath the waves in which you died.

For a while, I thought I saw you smile,

Through the mist,
Across the miles,
I'm sure I saw you smile.

And now, I see your face,
Shimmering in the depths,
Of this river,
This void.

You waver like summer evening haze.
Alive with wonder in my tomb,
I smile down to you,
So deep.

I see the sky in your eyes,
I feel the water wrapping me up,
Engulfing, enfolding, caressing you,
With thoughts of real wisdom,
Of life.

I begin to learn what it all means,
But when I touch the silver surface,
You flee,
And your smile fades,
In a wondrous haze,
Across the surface of the water.

*A version of this poem was published in 2001 by The International Library of Poetry in the compilation "The Path into the Light", p144. Watermark Press, MD, USA. 

This poem was written around 1990 following a walk on the Somerset levels in winter when the levels were flooded - hence the watery theme. It is a poem about the loss of someone I loved and memories of happier times. I guess it is also about the search for answers and the difficulties of obtaining such answers. When they come they are transient and can't be grasped.

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