Song of the Seagull

THE SONG OF THE HERRING GULL[1] by Alfredo [2]

 

I have flown the Channel on wet and windy days,

I have flown down to the high seas and I’ve battled through their sprays;

I’ve beaten wings upon wind currents that batter fierce and strong,

Yet I have borne them all as bravely as I mew the old gull’s song.

 

On beaches and on shingles I have put my webbed feet down,

I have cried my strident calls in Sussex weald and Sussex town,

I have walked the gutter and I have flown the chimney crest

Of country house or Brighton terrace, and preened my down-white breast.

 

I have sat on window sills and slept on lofty heights,

Where I can keep my yellow eyes on Hove or Shoreham sights;

I have cleared a space for breeding and for building of my nest –

For thirty days have sat upon my eggs that brook no rest.

 

Yet all I have borne bravely, been bold, capable and strong –

And when the times are tough I mew the favoured old gull’s song:

I have done it all, as gulls should do, without complaint or moan –

I’ve lived and loved a life-time, and gull-partner’s joy I’ve known,

 

And broods of two or three I’ve yearly hatched with breast-preening pleasure –

My progeny is great to see: herring gulls of flock-sized measure –

I’ve lived and breathed the sea air and grown to love the sky;

And soared and swooped on currents that no lesser bird could fly.

 

But now my right leg’s broken and I realize that my time

Has been cut shorter than it could be because of fishing twine;

My last three chicks grow stronger as my eyes go weak and dry,

And though my wings are broad and strong, I feel no urge to fly…

 

For I must store my energy for another world I face,

The old gull lore says I must soar to find a better place –

And so I build my hopes upon this ancient seagull flight

That bids me trim my Concorde beak and fly towards the light.

 

Two jackdaws come to undertake me, to escort me on my way,

A ring-collared dove coos words of love and bows his head to pray;

Two swallows fly way up on high and show fair weather’s near –

And a thousand thousand starlings wheel to guide us past the pier.

 

And when at dawn on some grey strand, or rooftop bleak and bare,

You see my form or feathers torn, eyes fixed in sudden stare,

Please do not mourn my passing on to places yet unknown,

Just listen to the gulls in voice and share the joy we’ve shown.

 

Hark to our tales of Western gales, and the sunny days of calm,

When from the beach, yet out of reach, we bob about in balm.

Or rise on chalky thermals in wheeling, circling courses,

Or ride about the West Pier on the backs of wild sea-horses.

 

Our route is yet uncharted and our ways are still unknown,

Save for those who know the secrets of a gull’s cry far from home,

Now that my way is difficult; my body wracked with pain,

And the sky I love grows darker and there falls a gentle rain

 

That draws a softest veil across the shadow of my fears

As I draw ever closer to the passing of my years.

Please light a little candle for me – shield it from the breeze,

Shining bravely like a lighthouse across the misty morning seas.

 

Its bright track across the water will speed my final flight –

Into such a greater darkness that will hide me from your sight –

Yet do not fret, I’m living yet, forgotten but not gone –

And some day too, I know that you will by the light you’ve shone.

 

Do not scorn the young gulls hatched to chuckle, mew and bark,

Or forget the deeper debt to old gulls after dark,

For wherever sea birds flock, the seagull’s spirit sings

In celebration of our gift of mighty angel’s wings.

 

                                                                        Hove, 2006