In Theory, Thoughts, and Moments. Part I | Teen Ink

In Theory, Thoughts, and Moments. Part I

March 14, 2013
By Zoe-22-Turner DIAMOND, Beverly, Massachusetts
Zoe-22-Turner DIAMOND, Beverly, Massachusetts
99 articles 33 photos 91 comments

New York, a city of humanity and all that is inhuman. The streets infested with motors, the air roaring with sound, and the skies blackened with the venoms of human existence. The grotesque, black clouds foreshadow murder, and an ending of all things beautiful. Yet every storm cloud has a silver lining, and somewhere amongst every throng of ugliness subsists a thing of beauty fighting against the sinister shadows which suppress it. These are the streets I walk. Hidden in this very rough is also where I found the diamond. This diamond, uncut and unpolished, lied in the heart of a homeless young man.

I was walking down these dismal streets, headed nowhere in particular, when I stumbled upon my diamond. I witnessed a broken songbird in flight that day, when the constant noise of my city fell silent, and beauty rang through the crystalline quiet. The grey skies cleared for the sun as the old acoustic guitar was strummed. A clear and lovely voice protruded out of nowhere.

“Charlie Boy, don't go to war.....” My wandering gaze settled in a lock with the saddest pair of eyes I have ever beheld. A lifetime of unspilled tears glimmered in the gentle hazel irises. These eyes enraptured me, they broke my heart with their inexplicably mournful stare. His song proceeded to posses me, taking over my body and mind, and compelling my feet to take one step after another across the road. Neither of us looked away as I reached the sidewalk. I stood before him and his hands stilled on the guitar strings, but his voice kept singing.

“Lillian, don't hang your head. Love should make you feel good....” I smiled because I recognized the Lumineers song, and the lyrics said my name. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly to return my smile.

“That's your n-n-name, isn't it?” he guessed. He had a slight stutter when he spoke. When I only smiled, he continued “ the bugle, play the taps and make your mothers proud. Raise your rifles to the sky boys, fire that volley loud.” His face was dirty, his clothes were rags, and he was beautiful. His song ended and the last note rang in the wake of his voice. That note reverberated in my mind forever after that day.

The author's comments:
part I of a story inspired by the adversity facing a friend and their overcoming of that.

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