Safer Together on the Sand

Safer Together on the Sand

The tides roll in and out
so regularly
that we can set the days by them.
But every low tide surprises you,
exposes you and leaves you
uncovered on the helpless shore.
You shiver every time.

You have learned to shelter in a
nearby cave, rolling a stone
to hide inside for half the day.
The surf is drowned out within
the limestone fortress.

I know where to find you.
I watched you once on the sand
before we ever met.
I marveled at your beauty and
wept as you ran away. I did not know
what it was you feared;
I only wanted to sit on the beach with you
until the tide came back in.

I started going to the same beach
each day to wonder at your beauty
and to know the secret that made you hide
(If I had only shone brighter, would you have
blossomed and
trusted me with your hidden heart?)

I walked past the pulpy seaweed, through
the coastal grasses to the mouth of the cave
gagged by a stone.

I did not know your name yet,
but I guessed it would sound like moonlight.
I wanted to breathe that name out loud,
but had to knock on the stone and
say “hey”.
I heard barely the sigh that wanted to
be alone.

I went back every day at the same time
and finally heard the tears drop just inside.
And I knew you still wanted to be alone.
I asked if I could remove the stone.
You preferred that I didn’t.

So, I promise to never try to pry it open.
But if, one day, you nudge it open,
only an inch…

Then I would still stay silent and
send only sunshine and golden love
through the crack you have opened.

And when I find you on the beach, frightened
but stronger,
I would ask your name and take it
as my necessary breath.

I would ask only for this;

That I could meet you here on the beach
every day to walk the sand together.
We would walk past the cave each day,
and we would keep on walking.

We are safer together on the sand
than alone in a soundless cave.

To Speak Up for Me

To Speak Up for Me

(“Therefore he is also able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, seeing that he lives forever to make intercession for them.” Hebrews 7:25)

I stood in the doorway watching everyone leave,
I stood in the doorway and lonely was not yet a word.

I enjoy classic diners with jukeboxes that play
45s cut before I was born. Strawberry shakes,
chrome counters and laughing so loud you put
another dollar in the machine to play the song again.

I didn’t mean to retire, it just happened that way.
I stood in the doorway where people gathered to pray
and I knew I could stand no longer, not by myself, not
without help, not without coffee and tears from a friend.

I enjoy being anonymous, I enjoy being known.
I know those aren’t synonymous, I enjoy being alone.
But solitary is sadder without an ear to hear my
Complaints in the dark.
And popular is just another word for how
friendship bracelets made us feel as kids.

I’ve been left standing in the doorway more often than I’d like,
standing abandoned in the doorway, sunspots all around my head.
Although some were invisible visitors and crept in undetected,
(this aching heart reacted to the overall theme, not each detail
of the narrative.)

I like parks where you can roll down the lawn
on green hills as far as you can. I like to watch the
clouds with a friend as they blow in over the skyline.
We never called out shapes; we were modern and cubist
after all. I like parks where frisbees and picnics share
the same air.

Everything perceived is a wave, a particle, a neuron, or
maybe angels. No one realizes it when they abandon you,
they just do not notice you are gone. Colors of morning
and sounds of engines warming fill the space the friend
once inhabited. No one
means to leave you alone.

I would turn away from the doorway, never to return,
but it will not still the yearning, the restless cry for
someone
to speak to me.
To speak up
For me.
To shed tears for me when
mine have run dry. An advocate, a brother,
a sister, a sponsor into the halls where
clouds are made to entertain an avant garde
and silly writer like me.