And the Earth Cried
Santa Clara, CA
2020, Senior, Creative Writing
Today, Mother dons a dress of bleached coral[1] and prays to every god she believes in. Opulence is carved into her decaying bones, jewelry out of discarded aluminum and glistening plastic.[2] Her crown is adorned with the colorful fins of tropical fish among a rocky grave—both a triumph in beauty and a memorial in loss—how radiant, isn’t it?
Sighing, she puts her head between her hands and kneels to the ground in mourning. She loves all her children equally, but some are brought up better than others. That’s what she whispers to herself when she watches the world she built with weathered hands end in fire. Smoke fills her lungs as she weeps saltwater tears. The water turns deep gray underneath a crimson sun, we make our home in wastewater[3] and rot.
When she first gave birth to mankind, her dress was nothing more than the beginning of polyps on fertile ground, a fragile sort of beginning. Already the oceans blossomed forth with life, the skies were cerulean blue, lush forests blanketed the land. Back then, everything was all right. Humans and the animals of before coexisted in friendly competition, focused on nothing more than survival. Though she supposed that just surviving was a cruel sort of existence.
She doesn’t remember when this foundation started to crack—pebbles hitting the ocean floor under the rupture of undersea mountains, a tempest uncontrollable in its rage against its oppressors—but it didn’t come unexpected. It was something almost stagnant, festering in hidden nooks and shoved under the dirt, laid six feet under as if this reality would never come back to haunt the living. Somehow, between the Industrial Revolution[4] and war and chaos and greed—something came undone. These ribbons that bind together the ecosystem, the spindle of each string on the food web—unraveled. Threads of fate turn on each other, curling themselves around innocent throats. Now, Mother wonders how anything could go back to the way it was before. Her dress fades as the ocean grows heavy with carbon,[5] no more than a calcified headstone for these creatures of the sea.
The youth of humanity now stand on a precipice overlooking the ruins of the ocean below. Trash swirls with ocean water, clumping together in patches that rival those of Mother’s creations.[6] Oil spills like blood across seas,[7] pearlescent shimmers suffocating the greatest source of oxygen,[8] shattered glass lining marred shores. She steps on these beaches with scarred feet, blood spilling black as the seabirds struggle for their life. Factors and factories[9]—aren’t they a brutal constant? These children of hers take no blame. No, instead they feed on the pain of the living, of each other. They aren’t the ones to care unless it’s much too late and much too futile. Appearances are everything, aren’t they?
We all love to think of the ocean as this eternal, timeless being that caresses rocky shores with untamed hands, pulling in rock and rubble—no home for terrestrial creatures. Nothing more than the subject of monstrous tales or cautionary statements for the young ones. Never go into the ocean. Beware the beast with no mouth but gaping maw. She’ll swallow you whole. Yet now, I think we’ve realized something different. Nothing is eternal—not the ocean, not the Mother. Not if we don’t take care of it.
Like all mothers do, she inhales one final breath as the world spirals out of her control, wrecking the cosmos and the stars until they are nothing more than dust flitting to the ground in soft wings. As they make contact with the depthless sea, they shimmer radiant. Today, we begin again. These children who almost destroyed our Mother’s creation may one day see it through to something luminous. Unimagined. Brilliant. But not until we fix what has already been broken.
And the Earth cried as Mother grew old, giving birth to Daughter. Perhaps she will be one to rewrite history. To rewind time. The arms of this Grandfather clock spin backwards, faster and faster until the arms come off and are left discarded on sandy beaches. Wasteful. This family reunion of pain and creation runs itself into each other, the contradicting arms of time, running and running until you can no longer outpace the future you’ve created for yourself—how does the White Rabbit feel now? And there, there you’ll say your grace among the Cheshire Cat and the Red Queen, move twice as fast to reverse the damage of now because changing the way we dump trash into the ocean and toxins into the sea is not enough. Not enough to undo. Not enough for it to just disappear.
Ocean activism is not a passive thing, nor should it be. When Mother comes back to see what her children have done, may she see blue oceans unraveling the stars. We are the implosion—collapsing inwards, tightening, tightening until we burst forth in neon phosphorescence. The children of this world watch as our youth spills hourglass sand onto these broken shores, aging in the way that our world teeters upon its gravestone. Still, this isn’t a permanent death. This hope, a beacon of light. This hope, the foundation. Raise your hands up towards the sky and may the Earth cry salty blue tears for the hope we’ve breathed into our souls. Today, we learn from our mistakes. Tomorrow, we will begin anew.
This time, Mother’s dress is a thriving coral reef, colors more magnificent than the rainbow in the smoke-free sky. Her crown is carved out of fossils and bones, a reminder to never forget where we came from. We were born from the sea. Now we must do our part to protect it.
Mother always told us to fight for what you believe in. Do not let your existence be the condition for someone else’s ambition. Don’t let yourself be passive.
I am young, but that does not define me. If I let this number define me, let it define others, so many actions would’ve been disregarded just because the people behind them were too young. History is made by the future and it’s our turn to write it.
This is my truth. My voice is limited in reach, but together may the sound of indignance and change rise higher than those commanding silence. The tides do not yield to anything but the moon. We will not yield to anything less than what’s right.
Just surviving is a cruel existence, isn’t it? That’s why we have to ensure that the animals of the ocean, of the world, do not just survive. They’ll thrive. And the Earth cried for its creatures, but we’ll answer its call. Together, we’ll make change. Mother may be forgotten amid the billowing winds and the temptation of ambition but we will preserve her memories for years to come.
Works Cited
[1] “What Is Coral Bleaching and What Causes It – Fight for Our Reef.” Australian Marine Conservation Society, Australian Marine Conservation Society, www.marineconservation.org.au/coral-bleaching/.
[2] “Marine Plastics.” IUCN, IUCN, 5 Dec. 2018, www.iucn.org/resources/issues-briefs/marine-plastics#:~:text=At%20least%208%20million%20tons,causes%20severe%20injuries%20and%20deaths.
[3] “Learn about Ocean Dumping.” EPA, Environmental Protection Agency, 29 Apr. 2020, www.epa.gov/ocean-dumping/learn-about-ocean-dumping.
[4] McGregor, Helen, et al. “The Industrial Revolution Kick-Started Global Warming Much Earlier than We Realised.” The Conversation, The Conversation, 24 Aug. 2016, theconversation.com/the-industrial-revolution-kick-started-global-warming-much-earlier-than-we-realised-64301.
[5] “The Carbon Cycle.” NASA, NASA, 16 June 2011, earthobservatory.nasa.gov/features/CarbonCycle/page5.php#:~:text=Eventually%2C%20the%20land%20and%20oceans,carbon%20cycle%20impact%20each%20reservoir.&text=Excess%20carbon%20in%20the%20ocean,putting%20marine%20life%20in%20danger.
[6] National Geographic Society. “Marine Pollution.” National Geographic Society, 27 June 2019, www.nationalgeographic.org/encyclopedia/marine-pollution/.
[7] Large Oil Spills, United States Geological Survey, www.usgs.gov/mission-areas/water-resources/science/large-oil-spills?qt-science_center_objects=0#qt-science_center_objects.
[8] “How Much Do Oceans Add to World’s Oxygen?” EarthSky, 8 June 2015, earthsky.org/earth/how-much-do-oceans-add-to-worlds-oxygen#:~:text=Most%20of%20this%20oxygen%20comes,byproduct%20of%20photosynthesis%20is%20oxygen.
[9] Mambra , Shamseer. “Ocean Pollution: 6 Things That Make It Worse.” Marine Insight, 27 Dec. 2019, www.marineinsight.com/environment/causes-and-effects-of-ocean-dumping/.
Reflection
Reflection
With this work, I wanted to address the overarching impact of climate change as well as the impact youth have on climate resiliency. I know that many teens (including myself) are told that it’s impossible to make change happen, but I believe that anyone can have a part in protecting the ocean. In writing this piece, I wanted it to center around Mother Nature, who is just mentioned as Mother in this piece, to create this sense of hope and familiarity that comes with family. Through writing this piece, I’ve learned of all the benefits that the ocean provides, going beyond sustaining ocean creatures. In fact, the ocean produces most of the essential oxygen we need for life on Earth. As the youth who will grow up in a damaged climate, we need to take action by making sure our voice is heard. I hope to do my part by writing stories of both hope and success, but acknowledging all the battles we’ll have to fight to get there. My hope stems from seeing all the youth out there fighting for their rights and morals, acknowledging what’s wrong with this world and what needs change. I hope that through reading my work that the message is clear—action is not passive, and youth will be at the front of it. Together, we can reverse the damage we’ve done to the ocean, but only if we fight for it.