chasers of the light.

Before this, I would have said that my favourite poem was a three-way tie between Otsego County by Neil Holborn, Atelophobia by Buddy Wakefield, and Hurling Crowbirds at Mockingbars by Buddy Wakefield. 

Yesterday I started reading a new book of poems. I have been eyeing this particular book up for some months and finally bought it when I was in Calgary a few weekends ago. Last night I started reading it. It might be full of the most beautiful poems I have ever read. 

There was one poem in particular that stood out in my mind. 

Today at work I actually had this thought, "what if I die before I get home and have a chance to read that poem again?"

The thought made me sad.

Then it was followed by this thought, "what if I get home and read it and it isn't as good as I remembered it after the first read?"

So I think I have a new way to gauge my favourite poetry. If I start worrying that I will die before I get to read it again it probably gets added to the favourites list. 

(ps. it totally did stand up to the second reading. Just as beautiful as my memory thought it was)

The book of poetry is called chasers of the light: poems from the typewriter series and it is by Tyler Knott Gregson. I am only about half way through. But I recommend it wholeheartedly.

Here is the poem I love most so far:

Peel back my skin and it won't be bones you will find,
Hiding under the muscles the tissues the scars
and the freckles are decaying timbers washed ashore.
I am a sinking ship made of unsinkable parts.
I am an old boat, built without a rudder,
a tattered sheet for a sail.
Can you see what I've been trying to show you,
that I go where the breeze decides to carry me
and you, my love, are a hurricane.

I am made from the creaking beams and rusted nails
of a lonely vessel on a lonely sea.
I am covered and coated, dusted with old salt water
and the frail residue of moonlight.
The oars and the compass, the anchor and the wheel,
have long since abandoned me.
Can you hear what I've longed to tell you,
that I go where the waves wish to deliver me
and you, my love, are the tide.

Press your ear to my chest and listen,
where a heartbeat should sing you will hear
the melancholy songs of tired whales.
The unsettled sigh and explosion of breath
as they find the surface once again.
Can you taste the salt on my lips?
Can you listen to the words that I've been aching to say,
that I go where the lights pull me
and you, my love, are the stars.

Stare through the portholes of my eyes
across the grey blue and green they float upon.
Hold tight to the timbers hiding under this flesh
and fill the empty sail with your grace.
I am the fragments of a shattered ship
filled with ancient songs sung by ancient souls.
Can you feel me falling into you as you leak into me,
that I am a sinking ship made from sinking parts
and you, my love, are the sea.

- Tyler Knott Greyson

He might write the most beautiful words I have ever read.