I’m sure I reached out to you There on the horizon Words spilled from my tongue Sonic whispers of many voices In languages unknown to me
I’m sure you heard me Ten thousand miles away Your body facing away from me again I could feel your grin of satisfaction Explaining how many deaths must one person die.
My body portal-ed to face you Over waves of torrential rage The deluge of clouds Left tracks on your face Streams of lost hope
Lightning smacked relentlessly And wind swept through your hair thick as the loom Pushing it sideways in slow motion You were facing down Then slowly looked up towards me Eyes black, empty
I’m sure I reached out to you in the pounding rain But could not traverse the growing chasm Now between us. We both knew, The chasm would consume us.
Eyes locked I felt your grin of satisfaction My future on the edge of the waterfall Holding on to a semblance of self worth I couldn’t understand How you were at peace
The storm receded You, still at its center It would always be like this for you, wouldn’t it? I stood silent on the edge Watching you fade away My lips mouthing my confusion How many deaths must one person die? How many deaths must one person die?
(2) 12″x12″ Oils on canvas – inspired by a dream, by a lifetime
Interesting how we try to tame everything. The ocean, with its wildness pushes against everything we hold as “our own” with total disregard. She doesn’t care about our feelings or our inadequacies. She will eat you up and spit you out. Sometimes, she won’t spit you out. When we were kids, we would rent “surfrider” inflatables and let her throw us at the beach. We’d walk out the door by nine and by 10:30 we’d be slammin’ the sand. For a couple of bucks, you’d get a bus ride, a soda, a piece of pizza and several hours of end-over-end near-death misses. It was a good thing for mom to get all that energy out of the house for most of the day. That’s the ocean I like. The one with dolphins that hit the surf, or tiger sharks that’ll “take your leg off”. The one that reminds us what it means to be alive….to live with mortal uncertainty. We tested her, and after a few times in the “washing machine” we decided it’s time to head home….stronger, browner, every orifice full of sand. Yet for some reason, this is what I think of to paint? A safe quiet harbor? Who is the one who has been tamed?
20×16 Oils on canvas board
I have only ventured onto the open ocean a few times in my lifetime. Even a couple of days of five foot swells will give you a respect for the sailor that braves a liquid life.