2017, High School, Poetry
My first love had blue eyes that could swallow the entire galaxy
with just one bite. She knew how to allay my sorrows and uplift my
meandering hope. I lionized her vastness that contained my world.
In this realm, I bathed in lucid dreams and nothing could beguile me
of my undying youth.
My first love was a poet. With gentle push to the right and churning
of the waves crushing the rocks, she created unspeakable poetry. Through
her love, I underwent a metamorphosis. I learned to lament with the rain
and be audacious with the storm.
My first love has jet-black eyes that bleeds an acid rain. She hides
behind debris and lies, coaxing me to run away from her. She cradles
me in her weakened arms as ripped plastic bags and oils assail my world with
ignorance. Such nebulous attack has pilfered my love.
My first love is a composer. From deep within the abyss, she creates
forgotten melodies and lyrics that we have turned deaf to. My love has
become an unimportant remnant of her grand past. No longer does she
sing to the Blue Whales and Hawksbill Turtles; her dear friends are long
gone. Caught, not by the gentle waves, but by human trap
weaved by greed. Human breed has killed my innocence.
My first love will have red eyes that resembles rage and
blood. She harbors death in the pit of her stomach filled
with greasy oil and human ignorance. Eyes that once held
the entire galaxy now looks back at me with dullness. They have
taken all her stars and planets, only the echo of death blows through
My first love will die tomorrow, singing the song of desperation.
Help me. The girl I once thought indomitable was sinking and
I could only plunge my scrawny arms inside the very bottom
of her existence. Day and night, I dug the ruins of her
stomach that has become a wasteland. A dumping ground
that grew into an incurable cancer. Help me. I know your vision
is clouded by industrial smoke and convenience, but I believe in
your humanity. Every first step began with our bare hands.
When tomorrow comes,
she will once again have
blue eyes; a galaxy underneath
our very own feet.
My first love,
Through my poem, I wanted to illustrate the beauty of our ocean and how everyone can contribute to either its destruction or restoration. I urge every single one of us to partake in rebuilding the ocean. As mentioned in the poem, I do believe that every first step begins with our bare hands.