Black Waters
York, ME
2015, Junior, Creative Writing
I watched the meretricious wave engulf the shoreline of my dwindling beach. The feeling of my body became covered with debris of a once prized possession hurt. Animals were struggling to stay alive in the black waters. I couldn’t do anything. It would be impossible. All I could do is wait, and I had to hope it would only get better.
The feeling of having different types of trash lingering on the skin of my waters felt like the build up of debris at a landfill. The weight held me down shrinking my volume into the tiny grains of sand. Fish who once swam for joy and serenity were staying hidden in the depths of sea. I barely felt their swift touch anymore. Once in a blue moon, I would catch a glimpse of them swimming to freedom, where there were less obstacles for them. My life became somber and lonely with no one or should I say nothing to share it with. The only objects that came near me were plastics. I was a magnet to them, attracting them from every direction. All they did was harm, yet humans didn’t seem to care. Maybe a few people cared enough about us to help, but the majority of humans are not educated of where their plastic goes. Plastics and debris only contributed harm to life under the sea. They were the predators that were scaring my friends away. I could do nothing about it. I had to let nature run its course. Nature didn’t cause the conflict. We have no control of the increasing amount of plastic being deposited into our bodies. “To humans, these are items of comfort, if not necessity. But to marine animals, they can be a floating minefield,” (Amaral, Kimberly 1).
Everyday I travel through mazes of debris lingering in the water. The ocean becomes a labyrinth filled with obstacles and animals trying not to become entangled. I believe that humans forget that plastic is noxious to the marine life. Water is to me as air is to you. I experience countless emotions of organisms every second of the day. I guess this is how we’re supposed to feel, worthless and deplorable, but I refuse to let myself give in and feel defeated. I am worth so much more than that.
It is a sight to see when someone comes to visit me. Although, they do not appreciate the natural beauty of my waters anymore. I constantly try to talk to them, breaking at the ankles of their feet working to pull them into my embrace. Nobody understands what they have done. When I used look out at the horizon, I would experience the beautiful landscape. Now all I see is debris scattered about and humans walking around it. Very few take the time to pick it up. Very few care about me. Very few appreciate what I do.
The people who do care can only do so much. I have to take into consideration that they have other lives, taking care of their family, working, and for some, school. They stroll down the microscopic rocks that make up my beach cleaning up plastic and debris. It eliminates a great deal of trash that would become sucked through the currents and consumed mistakenly by animals.
Debris surrounds me. Everyday. Twenty four hours a day. Three hundred sixty five days a year. “The millions of tons of plastic bottles, bags, and garbage in the world’s oceans are breaking down and leaching toxins posing a threat to marine life and human,” (Endangered Species International 1). If you think about it, plastics are not lethal to me. I’m just the victim, the carrier who lives in the toxic waste. There are more animals than just marine life that are being harmed by plastics in the ocean. As being the ocean, I watch the daily suffering of organisms. Birds. There’s an enormous amount of plastic that intertwines itself with their diet. I watch them as they choke, but again, I can’t do anything about it.
I understand that people could say that I don’t do much, but when you think about it, I make up most of Earth’s surface. I breath carbon from the atmosphere and exhale minerals. My salinity keeps me from becoming a solid in the colder months. I am a hidden ecosystem with mysteries lingering in the depths of my body. Unfortunately, at this rate, nobody will be able to uncover my secrets. Rarely, there are oil spills that ruin habitats of my children. My children are the animals of the sea who are disappearing at the crash of a wave.
I’m calling to you with every wave. I’m pleading to you with every tide change. I’m trying to get your attention to tell you to make a difference. I notice countless numbers of people on electronics forgetting that natural beauty only lasts so long until it becomes ugly. I’m not beautiful anymore. I am not the pretty attribute to our blue planet. I have been losing fate and hope that someone will take care of me. The ocean is like a baby. It cries and cries for the notice of their parents love. Well, I’ve been crying for a persistent amount of time, and as anyone knows, you can only cry or plead for so long. I am waiting for the moment to be healed. I am waiting to be reborn.
Time is of the essence. I want humans to be aware that I’m on my final straw. All of the marine animals are on their last leg. We are fighting against the plastic in the ocean to stay alive. In the future, I hope more people will help me. I will never become clean again, but we have learned how to live with plastic. Yes, more animals and birds are dying, so humans, please help reduce that. The ocean and seas are going to fight as long as we can. We are going to carry on hoping that one day our secrets will finally be uncovered.
Reflection
My name is Caroline Leal, and I am an eighth grade student. I have always struggled with writing. It is hard to persevere with a subject when it doesn’t come naturally to you. I always tend to find my serenity in numbers. Although, this year my english language arts teacher, Jess Baxter, has brought out the writer in me. It has not been easy! I always have to work a hundred percent to create quality work.
The topic for the contest really spoke to me this year. Since I live on a coastal town, I see how the beaches and oceans change throughout the seasons. In the winter, they are very calm and peaceful, but in the summertime, tourists come and go. Our beaches tend to become dirty covered with large amounts of debris. There’s only so much we can do though. I channeled my thoughts and opinions along with facts in my writing piece, “Black Waters.” As a citizen, I start becoming hopeless that our beaches will never be the same again. Trash cans and signs can only advocate sanity on the beach, but it doesn’t give an emotional message. My goal was to pull emotions from my experiences, as well as educate them about what is happening with plastics in the ocean. I enjoy participating in beach clean-ups to help make a difference. It makes me feel good about myself that I just did something positive. I hope I was able to create writing with a purpose.