A Smile That I'd Forgotten I Owned

A Smile That I'd Forgotten I Owned

A Poem by Cassidy Mask

Picture a beach

But it’s raining hard

So hard it hurts

So hard it jumps up

From beneath my running feet

Biting my legs

 

And the sea is on my right

And I’m running

I’m running so hard it hurts

My heart

And my legs

 

But I never want to stop

Because in the rain

It’s hard to see

And in the rain

It’s hard to hear

And in the rain

I don’t have to think

 

Just run

Run

Run

Run

 

 

The rain is almost warm

And it feels like going home

(Do you remember standing

In the yard in the warm rain?

Back when we didn’t stop singing

Singing

Singing

Singing

And the rain was a break

From the normal humidity?

I remember.

The lightning lighting the sky

And the thunder thundering above.

And my blonde curls

Sun-bleached back then

Were plastered to my smiling face.

I remember.

The sounds of the rain

Bouncing off concrete

And off skin

And the childish laughter

That our happy souls emitted.

Do you remember?)

The rain is almost warm

And it feels like being free

As I sprint

Across the wet sand

Barefoot

Spraying myself with salty water

And it feels like being free

As I sprint

Unable to keep the laughter from my lips

Childish laughter

That speaks only of joy

Not of humour

 

And the sea is on my right

Enticingly angry

And my legs carry me into it

My running impaired

By the waves which break against me

Pushing me back

So that I rock back on my heels

But I don’t stop

Not until the water tears at my waist

And the waves break around my shoulders

My clothes offering no protection

From this drowning wetness

 

And the rain is still falling

Falling fast

And hard

So hard that it leaves my skin feeling raw

 

And my laughter

Is still splitting my face

Into a childish smile

 

A smile that I’d forgotten I owned

 

© 2009 Cassidy Mask


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Added on July 9, 2009

Author

Cassidy Mask
Cassidy Mask

Singapore



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I'm at art college in Singapore. "...I never heard them laugh. They had, Instead, this tic of scratching quotes in air - like frightened mimes inside their box of style, that first class carriag.. more..