"Seagull Song" by Audrey Youko.Greywords M.

Harshly beating

Time is fleeting

Bend my wings with flight

Always flying

Hoarsely crying

Tearing through the night

I had a dream tonight. Where I heard a song in a strange voice pleading. What does it mean?

I close my eyes and try to recall that vision that slips like sleeping sands out of the grasp of the god of dreams.

In my mind’s eye I see gulls.

In my mind’s ear I hear their shrill cries.

How un-romantic to dream of gulls.

Nothing good ever comes to those who dream of gulls. They are left in the dusts of memories along with the sailors and fishermen who make their living under the watch of those mourning seabirds.

Under their watch.

Are they protecting the sailors?

They bring a message of hope to lost fishermen.

So could they then be, guardian angels in beggars robes?

Throat now bleeding

Cry for feeding

Careless cruel pass me by

Avoiding stones

And insults thrown

What makes these men better than I?

And in class today. I thought of gulls. I read ancient poems while my teacher stands blindly before me and my nameless peers. Poems of great birds. Falcons and Eagles are mentioned in abundance. Doves and ravens share their feathered fame for different reasons. I could look hard enough and find children’s rhymes for Magpies and delicate swans.

But only once do I see gulls, and they are mentioned only in passing by an apocalyptic Irishman.

A gullian angel.

I try to picture what image could accompany such strange words, but my mind is at a loss.

I never was a very visual person.

My images are wrapped within my words. Like a hoary sage, I will tell you stories until you see.

When it comes to gulls I am blind.

I hope to find one outside this building.

Begging, picking like a raven

The sea is not my home or haven

Living for the land and air

Life that’s saddening

Cold, and maddening

I’ll trade these feathers for my hair

Wishing, hoping, and deceiving

Death is just a kind of leaving

Leaving in despair

Hope a kiss this spell to break

And a golden ring to take

Eaten with a wedding cake

To trade feathers for hair

I woke up in a cold sweat.

It’s too hot in this room. I slide open my bedroom window and, at two am, my dreams come true.

There upon the sill is the body of a near-dead gull.

I run to my closet, too quick for words and bring rags to wrap the wretch’s hide.

His grey feathers are a mess. And all over my room there lies the snow of down.

I cuddle the pitiful being in my arms and gently rock it to and fro. My eyes nearly melt away into tears to hold it growing colder.

Candle burning at both ends.

It will not survive long. In an attempt at pity, I bring my head close to its own and breathe warm sighs upon its face; Kissing its beak before crawling gently back into bed with the dying bird in my arms and sweater.

Shouldn’t I be worried? Gulls can spread disease. And shouldn’t I be disgusted? It may be dead by morning.

I hold the cold little body, stroke its wings and sing the words that came to my mind.

Cease your crying!

Dreams of dying

Listen to the song I’ll sing

I will bless you

And caress you

Trade your life to wear my ring!

Spell’s unbinding

And unwinding

By my words and actions, too.

Soothe your aching

Bird’s heart; breaking

Angel, gull, and lover true!

The rest of the night was sleep. I dreamt a dark warmth that encompassed the world.

Awoke and discovered in bed beside me, a thin young man with grey-white hair. I knew not whether I should move or remain. He wore nothing but the sweater I had wrapped the seagull in the night before.

The youth slept on through my awkwardness, breathing softly. I touch his body and feel how cold it is.

He rouses at this and his lids part to reveal the ocean.

Eyes of a queer green-grey-bleu. The sea of storms. The bay of overcast.

I repress a tired “bay-gull” joke.

My lover tries to speak.

His voice is a harsh unused cry. It registers in a range of sounds that I have come to associate with “sour”. It leaves the same feeling in your sinuses as eating something that has gone bad.

I hold my hand to his lips to silence him. To my dresser I ascend, removing from It a precious jewelry box.

With the box in hand I return to his side and give to him the sole content of the beautiful box.

A small golden ring.

I love you

My enchanted seagull.