Oh flightless seabird,
I think you are lovely.
Mouth unfed,
feathers untethered.
Sitting pretty on the creek,
friends and families tasting the blue.
No wind under your feet,
not yet.

They think fondly of you,
seabird.
That’s a choice they’re allowed to make.
The higher they fly, the further away you become.
The weakest love you,
pity turns to self love.
At least they can fly,
at least they’re not alone.

You know better,
my seabird.
I saw you,
and so I knew you.
Easy.
It is you and you alone who grins at lilac kisses,
melts the silver sparks.
Sour grass midnight and
rusted dawns alike agree that you see,
therefore you are.

Flightless seabird,
We’re looking back with glass eyes.
You are here,
and you are loved.

You are not alone.

Do  you  remember  when  we  walked
into  the  sea
and  on  the  ­sand ?
Do  you  remember
Liza  with  a  Zee
as  if  she  was  here  only  yesterday?

And­  the  people  
in  the  ports  of  Amsterdam?
You  loved  them  ­as  I  did,
As  if  they  were  flowers
someone  had  forgotten to water.

The  moments  with  you
were  the  moments  in  my  life ­ 
I  could  scarcely  forget
even  if  I  tried  to  shove  them
­into  some  dusty  hideaway  corner.
                            ­            
How  many  times  have  I  remembered,
after  forgetting  for  so  long?
As  the  wind  would  blow  an­d  stop,
and  blow  again  some  day.

And  do  you  remember
the  seabird  overhead,
trying  to  tell  us
something  about  l­ife.

With  his  voice  full of  anguish
and  loneliness-longing …
flying  high,
flying  into  realms  of  seagull  joy.
Inviting ­ us  to  join  in  heart
as  we  watch  from  far  below.