It was written on the birthday of a certain Wendy-bird, as a farewell for a certain Wendy-bird, as a thank you can only manage  with miles of terrestrial deafness hindering all Eucharist of this one Wendy-bird who changed the life of a certain nobody.

So thanks, Wendy.

For Jem, the mother of lost children.
December 15, 2015

One day I walked the borders of a certain sea
To see what could be and what
Possibly could come from another new tea-

I hadn’t expected the reeds to sing.

Serenaded by the presence
As water hushed, it was like clockwaves
When wheelbarrow axles squeaked on their side
Because rust – because red-
Wasn’t longer than the tapestry of newness
And couldn’t contain it. This.
All that sea, that
Freedom washed ashore
So close and in fingers reach to me.
The Mermaids sang too. You made them.

With those small syllables, each pinky power clenched open
Since you pressed “Enter” instead of exiting.
You taught as falling snow
I watched for hours while you cascaded so slow.
I, talking too much
And you not talking as much as I wanted.
It’s not everyday that the pinnacles of history
Bend an hour with you. But it was nearly everyday
It seemed I could hear backbreaking loads laid
As if sand was important enough to make burdened waves stop and listen.
You spoke like
Water brimming over
But never falling.

And the birches bent
Under the weight of your words.
You sledgehammered time to your wishes
Shattered the box where my mind sat in atrophy.
Without saying anything, you said everything
Only implying the necessary, and no less
Which meant more.

Those long days
The ones with no mistakes in ’em.
Even that specific birch
Tipping to hug your car and make the day good.
When you taught me to smile
And let the breadcrumbs take me home.

Buzzsaw snarling on that birch’s trunk
As we ripped each shred;
Chopped each bark, scooping to eat the fallen leaves
Of poetry, since we are not the one dead.
Never out, out- of time,
Always having to fly.
Taking off straight on till morning
You unlocked the poetry in their lives too.
Broke past their mindcaves
Torched the deepest folds of their secluded ceilings
You gave the gift of light while teaching through the night.

I clapped, hands together and head down
Clapping because I believe in Wendy
Praying that the waters would recede
So she could breathe.

I liked that quiet from the stretch of waiting
For words that mean things.
Anything in your hands became deep
Because, like water,
You let things be immersed.
Thus, I learned learning.

You ended up teaching me more than juxtapositional sugar
Because it became an awfully big adventure
When you taught lifing.
And that if ever you were gone,
There was a second star to the right.

Though winter comes and the tide sweeps you back
And much feels lost under that snowy Frost
I know that we both believe
With Him, you taught,
You cannot be lost
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me),
It’s always each other that we find in the Sea.


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