Seagulls / Freedom
50° 4′ 8″ N, 5° 43′ 1″ W
You packed all your belongings; nothing will remain here.
The rucksack’s weight is like a bone-light body gliding over a shallow sea. Circling above the tides, you scream the melody of vanishing things. You throw your words into the wide unknown, and they echo through my bones, stitching the sea to the sky. Touched by the breeze, I taste the salt you left behind.
Like a disappearing point in the sky, you enter a deep blue void. Everything the light touches is freedom. Nothing is trapped inside your body anymore. Like a feather on my hand — a white stillness.
Fragile
You crossed the line that dissolves the moment you approach it. A bird’s wing carry the silence of the sea; the wind whispers into my ear, leaving me with your secret. I scream it into the vast endlessness, but the waves swallow my words; I barely hear my own voice.
I drown in my own sounds, lying on the cold ground, captivated by the seagull’s beauty above me. Rain begins; I open my mouth, trying to catch the sweet drops. The sea is rising; the waves are coming home. The sun gently lifts itself, blurring the tide’s edge with me.
Eventually, I catch a feather.
Freedom