The Whistle Blows

-The Whistle Blows-
by Keaton Foster



By the shore
Not so near
Our there
The whistle blows
A man with his hand
Heavily
Upon the rope
He pulls
He doesn’t know
How far does it go
The sound
Frightening to some
I am just one
From my bed
It shakes me
Wide awake
I scream
And dare plead
Make it all stop
I don’t wanna know
If you are coming
Or leaving port
I just wanna be
As it seems
Left so very much alone
Here in my home
In my skin and bones
Down by the ocean
In this place
Watching water
Breaking the sea
Watching nature
Interference free
Seeing what’s real
God’s perfect plan
Unmolested
But then
That man came along
And messed it all up
Sullying this paradise
Calling attention
To my prison
Assume me crazy
Question my sanity
You won’t be the first
Nor will you be the last
Over-sensitized
Abundantly sterilized
I may be both
But in truth
I am just more in tune
With what it means
To be a living being
A man of scope and detail
One of infinitely many
I am that one person
Standing far outside
Any gathered crowd
An observer’s observer
A stranger’s familiar stranger
No one ever notices me
Because I am invisible
Not quite physical
A hollowing shell
With nothing to offer
But everything to tell
There are other sounds
Many more
That I can tolerate more
But not that one
The whistle blows
Again and again
Breaking waves crack his hull
That sound splits my skull
Upon deaf ears
I plead
Make it all stop
As the man with his hand
Heavily
Upon the rope
Does again pull
He doesn’t know
And always won’t
There he goes out to sea
Out past what I can see
He’ll come back
After a fruitful catch
Nature is his bounty
Mine is another
A sinister connection
Quite often communicated
I’ll stay right here
Enjoying nothing
Embracing all silence
Watching the horizon
Counting the distant waves
As they break at my feet
I know that he is out there
The rope and his heavy hand
A metaphorical masterpiece
Kicking me in the teeth
Sure I could move
Out into some distant forest
Far beyond human interaction
Out where nature
Thus the animals
Are both king and God
But I won’t
Childishly
I must admit
I was here first
This place is my home
Inspiration for my bones
The sound invades
The rudeness awakens
Intrusive madness
Certainly to only me
When the man in the boat
Both comes and goes
The whistle blows
I know
I quite sure
That he and it
Will do the same
Weather I remain
Or if I was to leave…



The Whistle Blows
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014.