A Poem: The Pelican
I was surprised by the envy I felt that day
as I stood, facing the ocean.
Not envy of laughter echoing off the shore everywhere around me.
Not envy for the skinny belly I have long since lost.
Not envy for those youthful days, magical, theatrical.
I envied the Pelican.
He hooked me.
His long stretch, his silent glide
over the turning, white-capped waves.
His quiet flight, the focus of his graceful mission,
his wings outstretched
catching lift from the breeze.
He caught me.
The ocean crashing on and on
had fixed my attention all day.
Waves gathering against each other
loud, but silent.
Finally, I could see, smell, breathe.
There’s too much noise like smog.
Too many humans carrying too much chaos
in the palms of their hands, in their souls.
Like metal scraping on metal,
there’s too much racket
in our bodies, on these screens, in our heads.
We lock into our loud lives, our loud talk, our loud wastes of time.
But what about the wonder
in the movement above the waves?
No one saw the Pelican that day.
No rhapsody, no one stunned
by his effortless glide.
We forget to look, hooked into our loud lives.
But the Pelican, his glory offers transport,
his wings carry us out, out of something,
into something.
His movement moves us.
My soul cranes its neck and cries out for breath.
I want to be lost far out at sea, with nothing to pull me out of the calm,
out of the mystery and grandeur.
Like the bird gliding over the sea
held by silent air
alone—
No senseless chatter
yanking him into inconsequential
Nothingness.
Originally published on September 2, 2019