Light — Inspired by Mathis Grey
by L. Jay Mozdy
Her hand was small and warm in mine, as we walked the miles on a smooth sand road. Guitar in hand, down to two strings broke, she saw freedom inside that car; the boys knew where to go. With t-shirts, tans and beaches abound, where surf was up and she was down with that in mind. I walked the miles ahead alone, until my feet were bare and lost. The sea in front, the darkened past, the moon all up when the sun was bound. How many norths I passed due south all along the lines drawn straight and true. None with ends, or at all about, and she was home to me; deep in thought, in sights unseen, her face and laugh in faces passed me, scattered in these empty rooms. The melodies made for days in shade, for summers fat and green, by summer gone, as grasses fall, too tall for weighted wind; be back by then through waking eyes, I will see no more again. Hand still closed from mine. So many parts to join between and us without a word. Captioned crowded hush from grey; clear, clean, still light; song sung and hung across the sound. On ships that sea turned bright, a sunny day, carry word by word on which to stay. Afloat sustained steadily strung across the way through dark. A glint; a flame so far from her, I went to wait and see. My leather sore, my band intact, my lifeless urges coming back to ground and go along their fleet ways. Hopelessness lit by flickering flame, yet small it’s bright in so much dark. Seen as is, filling minds alight for intoned notions keep us found. Hear it all, one tall word to break the falling heart, to say with: I am as I am with this way through dark. And still, as still as nothing could perch on top and steadily stay; I am, I can. Witness for you my love and those who care to be the light they are. Shining on, they are, with arms held high to catch a word of that steady hush above. And each involved as slight as rain, each one in all, yet none are you. One could walk upon the ships upon the sound of so many voices made; all as one as one solid-soft as softest grey. The light between will be no more, if truth is light that’s coming through. To hear a word, to see the day, the light through night, to all who be, to all of you and all of me; we, we are, we can.
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Mathis Grey spurred this abstraction on. Thank you Mr. Grey for “Lights” — L.J.M.
