These walls, now empty
Nonetheless, have eyes
Thick, steel enforced…
Peering
Materially, since 1952
In the cold heart of war
.
These eyes
Looking out
Across ancient untouched lands
Midden, perhaps, bone laden
Dappled with quickly vanishing
Wallflower, Lupine, lizard
Peering
Across and through the great ventana
Over this deep and sacred canyon
.
Watching
Inward, observing
These eyes have seen so much
The drilling military
Preparing for interception
Pacing, plotting, planning
These eyes watch them, suspicious
Watching
Watching
The West
.
Inward, observing
These eyes witness
The transformation
To changed attention
A new war, perhaps
The countless hours
Of impassioned hands, minds
Amidst the hum of suburban expansions
Tireless calculations, analyzations
Of this great mystery beyond the shore
Hoping to know
Hoping to understand
How she breathes
How she swallows
How she creates
And decades later
Inward observing
These eyes watch
The rush of divers
Assembling for
The scouring
Of this same blue Mystery
Swallowing
The clues to Denver’s demise
.
These eyes look out, and behind
Over lands
Separated by thick concrete
Watching over the divide
At Hundreds of burials
Over Grieving, releasing
Citizens of place, the recent ancestors
Remembering, honoring
It watches
It watches
.
A short shadow in comparison
To the adjacent pulsing light
Guiding, protecting the sea
This atomic proof sentinel
Watches nonetheless
Unacknowledged
Over lands and hearts and species
Its gates, protecting
Cradling the lands of hummingbird
And the rough and sandy microcosmic
Worlds of dune
.
Watchtower
Did the land rise up to create you?
A result of thousands of years
Of ancient worship, community, respect
Of bare feet honoring these shores, that Mystery
Before the Fall
Did the land rise up to create you
Impenetrable, solid
To see
To hold
To be
To Protect?
.
Watchtower
Sentinel
Watching over me
As young child, exploring
Tiny plump hands, I grip your gate
Looking up
And wonder
Have you always been here
Watching?
Will you always be here
Watching?
Protecting?
.
Whether regarded
With the cloak of history
To these eyes
In her-story
You are seen
You will always be sacred
You will always be
The protector, and perhaps someday teacher
Of these lands
The fortress
Now graced with the eyes of the Ocean
In her-story
You
Will always be
The
Watchtower
.
Thanks for tuning in to this series of poems honoring the NOAA building in Pacific Grove, CA. If you’d like to hear this poem recited, you can find an audio version here:
Letting Go 