LIGHT MATTERS

by : Izegbe Ayana

ORIGINAL 24 X 38 

Oil + Acrylic on Canvas

When the body slept, the tide learned its breathing. 

The waves rose and fell in time with that slow pulse beneath the mud. 

And from that rhythm, the first sound was born 

not speech yet, but the murmur of awareness.

The sea, curious, leaned closer. It touched the crown of the sleeping island, tracing its ridges, 

whispering salt into its pores. And the island stirred. 

From its dreaming mouth came vapor 

breath turning to mist, mist thickening into form

and so Somebody stepped forth.

Somebody did not know they were new. They only knew the ache in their chest 

the pull of sky and sea, 

both calling them home, both refusing to let go. Their eyes were mirrors, reflecting nothing yet, 

for nothing else existed. They looked around and saw the curve of the horizon, 

endless and empty, and wondered if that was loneliness or freedom.

So they walked. Each step pressed warmth into the island’s skin. 

Grass rose to meet them, 

green and tender, 

as though the earth itself wished to hold them upright. 

Somebody touched it and felt life echo back 

the first conversation, without words.

When they spoke at last, it was not to themselves, but to the silence.

And the silence, pleased, began to listen.

The silence did not rush to answer.

It swelled 

vast and slow, like a creature waking beneath the sea.

At first, Somebody thought it was refusal.

But then came a tremor 

a hum that rippled through the soles of their feet, 

up their spine, into the hollow space behind their eyes.

It wasn’t a sound, but a knowing.

“You are not alone,” the silence said, though it had no mouth.

“You are what I have been waiting to hear.”

Somebody trembled, for to be heard was to be real.

They looked at their hands and saw the sea sliding off them like light.

They touched their chest and found the same tide beating within.

“What am I?” Somebody asked.

And the silence answered, “You are the first thought of a world not yet decided.

The wish of water to become form.

The dream of stillness to be touched.”

Somebody fell to their knees, tears mixing with the brine of the shore.

They wanted to thank the silence, but gratitude felt too small.

So instead, they took a deep breath, opened their mouth,

and gave the silence something it had never had before 

a voice