TBT - Poetry from last year.

I posted this to my twitter account (@byersj09) some time ago, but it only recently came to my attention that it is actually a bit hard to read on there, so I'm reposting it here for a first throw-back-Thursday post. I wrote it during my creative writing class last summer, and probably my favorite from that time. Here is a link to the picture that was used as my inspiration (per the assignment's directions): http://holeinthedonut.com/2013/02/23/photo-easternmost-point-spain-cap-de-creus-natural-park/
I hope you enjoy!

The Cape

Two wheels of soft rubber whisper on the asphalt,

the chain gently whirs on the gears like wind against wings

until the salt water engulfs first

the nose,
            then tongue,

 then vision.

I walked this path some months ago

as leaves turned into individual flames

and danced on their branches and floated in the wind.

Small, smooth stones that crunch underfoot

then give way to rocks that skitter, and clatter

and boulders that stand strong,

like bolts holding the earth together.

Birds caw and squawk, specters in the sky

hunting the next victim, their calls swept out to sea –

lyrical accompaniment to the ocean’s melody:

surf slapping the strong, stony shore.

The ocean breaking over rocks time and time again

mimics the tumbling thoughts,

the regrets, and the question

“What if?”

“What if I got to say goodbye?”

and when you try to escape them

they crash loudly, repeatedly,

relentless waves against your conscience.

Tufts of greenery cling to the beaten rocks,

the only brave pops of color in this gray-scaled world,

their flowers rare glimpses of the life that thrives here.

In the horizon the gray-cloud sky meets

with the gray-reflecting water

pulling on the gray-rock fingers of the Cape,

pulling them out to sea against their will.

Even the air is gray and thick

with a drizzle that is not quite rain

nor the lack of it.

The gray invades the body, the mind, the soul,

devouring emotions and thoughts

leaving you even more

numb and empty

than the salt-filled shell of a summer locust.

I see you standing there, locust-girl,

blown by the battering gray wind,

and I’ve brought the Sun with  me.