the beach
there is a reason
somewhere in this sky of ours
nobody is looking for it
because their eyes are cast downward
and there is an answer
somewhere in that sea of ours
sometimes i wish i could swim it
how free i would be. . .
because there is a reason
for all this anguish in our hearts
i know. . . i know. . .
i know
and there is an answer
to this thing that we call life
i know. . . i know. . .
i know
when i walk down this sidewalk
i see flowers. . .
flowers that break through the cement
and i wonder
how did they summon up the courage?
and where is the cement
that we're supposed to break through?
perhaps we are the flowers
without eyes to see where they are headed,
they just grow and grow and grow
blindly,
until they find their way through the cracks
sometimes i scream
like a man possessed
by what, i don't know
sometimes i wish i didn't own myself anyway
and sometimes i cry
like a child bewildered
who has lost his mother, and is left to walk the world
alone, for a little while
and as i scream and cry
i can see through my blurred vision
the people of the masses as they chant
"we will not be silenced, we will not be silenced"
but their protests are the very declaration
of their silence!
this silence that we hear,
it is only a noise which we have never known was there
and perhaps, when this noise stops,
this "silence,"
and the real silence sets in,
we will know what we were hearing
but don't expect the noise to stop
don't expect the silence to end
don't expect to grow
until you have grown roots
i have arrived at the sea
the sky is cloudless
as is the water, the wind
and the tear in my eye
this ocean
it is the unknown
for we are on the beach
(every once in a while the tide comes in)
and although the beach is sometimes dry
and the waves crash in, and out,
and in, and out
and the seashells are few and far between
the sand is still the same
Poem © 2000 Russell Moore, all rights reserved
