The Watery Star of Edinburgh

Inspired by a lonely stone statue at the end of a quay. Image by

He had been just a boy
when he fell head over heels
for his pain and his wounds
that just wouldn’t heal
There was no gain
in sorrow
he needn’t be told
yet from pain
he could borrow
what he’d only
been told

About
when he was five
he would sit in the fields
hardly alive, quiet, concealed
and
screaming
while seeming
like any a kid
lost
amid
the fields
that peeled
his eyes open

Wide
were the fields
and he was alone
sometimes he’d feel
as if others were there
he’d catch the glimpse
of a smile
feel the brush
of a hair
because it was too much
for one child
to bear
he couldn’t declare
himself
the sole being
on earth
everywhere
He saw the only way out
that a child could conceive
he cried
and cried out
all pain
and all grief
He stopped the noises
halfway through the air
for all of a sudden
he found himself able to care

Too much
did he cry and too much
did he cringe
the boy grew addicted
to turning his flinch
into salty
pure liquid
So cold
and so drained did his body become
for all tears had left him
with no more to come
When he had to face
the void
that he had thought drowned
he doubled right over
knocked straight to the ground
He wanted to run
but he had no more strength
so as he laid
destroyed
he knew that his end
had now begun
so he decided to do
what had to be done:
He ripped his chest open
to return his heart
to the sun

The furnace of life
took one beating heart
and spat it out
as one stone, so hard
that under its pressure
the tears came apart:
they split and re-joined
they rose up and they sunk
they grew bigger
than the little shrunk
boy’d ever be
and with pin-point precision
and vigorous rigor
they thawed together
into one flowing mixture:

the sea
The stone in the sky
was the “moon”
said the boy
who grew into a man
now that his toy
had the span
of his pain
in its veins

All his tears in the ocean
all his heart in the moon
devoid of emotion
in his skin-tight cocoon
he stepped to the quay
to move nevermore
for now there was she
by whom he was adored
her head far above
her arms and her bosom the sea
her whole reason for being
was to give him the hug
that would never be
His wife
and his lover
his mother
was
me

So I summoned my strength
to raise up my arms
to his face so close to the rim
but missed by the length
of a hair
that just wouldn’t learn how to swim
He stood still
upright
and full of hope
but as I missed
and missed
and missed
and missed
and missed
I couldn’t cope
I had failed him so badly
my face pressed to my hands
I sobbed
that
I was so sorry
and
shouldn’t exist
that
he should be kissed
and that
I would persist
and that
he shouldn’t worry
but
he knew
and I knew
while he stood in the rain
that his pain would continue
no matter how often
I would try again
And again
he could have acted
but he closed his eyes
he wanted salvation
without paying a prize

So he stood
and he waited
as I followed his calling
so he would be sated
With days passing by
then weeks and then months
I had only his faith to guide me
and it felt like a punch
that his faith never wavered
he was certain I’d make him fly
even though it was I
that was salt-tear flavoured


His creation
his angel
messiah
salvation
his star-constellation
was me

I couldn’t let him down
I’d stack all my waves
I’d bundle my currents
I rushed up in a torrent
as high as a tower
adding floor after floor
with all of my power
piercing cloud after cloud
screaming determined
bubbling froth at my gown
when at last I poured down
at the man
by the shore
whom
I still adore
my arms stretched out wide
in a desperate roar
I want to embrace him
just like I swore
I failed
more often
than all the days you’ll ever see
Yet he’s standing
limp
and cold
so
patiently
looking up and down
his
memory

A single
finger outstretched to his cheek
I want to touch him
but I am too weak
for really I’m him
and he doesn’t skim
even his own
destiny

Although I hide every month
I have begun to wonder
why he doesn’t move
not in sunshine
nor thunder
Not a stretch, not a step
towards me
If you’ve been caught in a web
that wouldn’t let you go free
then you know
that with
years, nay decades, nay eras
comes wisdom
and the further you step back
the more you see
the system



The little boy who cried me
out of his eyes
to be loved at the very least
by his own demise
doesn’t come towards me
neither in day nor in night
for he fears the wake
which is
that my touch
just
would be too much
for him
to take
He keeps me waiting
with his “Darling”s and “Dear”s
because he never learned
to swim in his own ocean of tears

Author's Note

All comments are highly appreciated :)