a love letter to the ocean
Haddam, CT
2021, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word
we met under the moonlit sky when i was five.
my hand loosened from mama’s grasp, and
i became juliet,
legs stumbling to you,
giggles clashing with the softness of your waves,
arms whipping water as
i tried to find a way
to love the unlovable,
a montague and a capulet—
an ocean and a girl whose feet were curved into sand like golf clubs.
your waves slapped my chest,
and my body swayed, tipping like the titanic;
collapsing.
the taste of wind and waves pushing past lips, flooding my mouth.
how brave of you, to kiss the cripple.
~~
i watched the world spin on the movie screen at the museum,
white the texture of cotton candy swirling on maps,
swallowing the blueness of your seas.
2005. Category 5 Atlantic Hurricane.
a man’s voice emanated from the screen,
warning of greenhouse gases. i imagined
my world crinkling like paper,
a flaming human fist crushing ozone layer.
his somber sentences foreshadowed a tragic end to our love,
so i spent the words you gifted me
betraying you, seeking
able-bodied white princess fantasies
caring about conformity but not climate change
trading my star-crossed lover for comfort.
i was no longer juliet, and
your coral reefs turned to bone.
~~
today, i am the swimmer,
propelling my arms through your waters,
reaching, reaching, reaching, and wanting more;
the little boy in The Giving Tree.
i now whittle my words like wood,
using my experiences as an ambulatory powerchair user to shape sentences.
blue skies and ice cream, salty winds and soft beach,
accessible ramp.
you embraced my wheelchair imagination,
kissing the cripple and caressing my scars.
i never dared to dream of a world where i could be me.
in your waves, i learned to be
the adventurer,
the writer,
the star-crossed lover,
the person who accepts her identity.
you are suffocating,
dying of a curable death,
a diagnosis that i can no longer ignore.
life is not a happily-ever-after story or Shakespearean tragedy,
and as my legs stumble once more into your waters,
i am not juliet or a fairy tale princess.
i am a human hoping to help save you,
just another figure
playing
in your waves.
Reflection
As an intern at the Climate Museum, I learned about the power of the arts, and the interconnections between social injustice and the climate crisis. I created this poem because I strive to give others hope as I help people acknowledge environmental inequity, accessibility issues, and the connections between the disability experience and the climate crisis. Our voices are often silenced, yet people with disabilities and other marginalized communities are at an increased risk of the impacts of climate change, with threats to their health, water, sanitation, and lives. I hope to encourage young disabled people to share their art and their voices as the sea levels rise.