Hatteras island (saying goodbye forever)
Harrisburg. NC
2019, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word
The gray wind sifts sand and salt through my hair
and on my tongue is the taste of seashells and crabs
Waves rush bubbling past my sandaled feet
I watch as ever so slightly the tide eats up the shore
But the frightening fact is that some of that shore will never reappear
With a grind in my heart i wish i could will those waves backward in their tracks
I stand on the beach of hatteras island
the last and most southern island of
a 200-mile island chain on the east coast of america
They call this chain of islands (this vibrant series of life and color)
the outer banks, north carolina, usa.
Hatteras island serves as habitat for countless animals and people and beauty
It houses a lighthouse—a famous one
but it’s different from the last time i stood here
(i was a prancing joyous little one vacationing with her family)
It’s very different
and not in an exactly happy way
This time i stand as the observer of a deeper trauma
I can’t help but think as i try to take it all in
Is this real? is this actually happening? but it is
It’s the kind of scene you can’t imagine till you’re in it
a murder scene where the dead bodies are the hearts of the coastal people
and the blood is the ruined homes and habitats
The gun? climate change (two words i keep hearing in the news)
The bullet? the sea.
That one there was mine says sharon pointing with a wearied hand
and that one was my best friend pat’s
Sharon is the woman showing me the wreckage
Her little house (which she points out to me) is now nothing but
a sunbaked water-cracked hull of a thing
The waves wash over it slowly dragging pieces of wood out to sea
This place used to look very different way back when she says
and there’s this ache in her voice that i don’t quite understand
When louis and i first moved here you could walk
clear out to where that buoy’s bobbin’
and your feet would still be dry
like the feet of the israelites when moses parted them waters
And there were so many fish here oh child yes there were
We could eat fish dinners every night
But now…she frowns because the water’s gettin’ warmer
the fishin’ just ain’t the same
Sharon sighs looking out to sea and shaking her head
I don’t know what we’re gonna do now child
I just don’t know
The ocean took our house and part of the cemetery where we buried my momma
My friend pat’s leavin’ real soon since her house is gone too
This place just ain’t what it used to be
And you know I got this tie to the land (my momma was born and raised here
and i’ve lived here all my life)
and it hurts real bad to let this place go
She pulls out a handkerchief and wipes at her eyes (chocolate brown)
and in her every action i feel this deep sadness
and yearning for something that’s saying goodbye forever
(and forever is a long long time if you stop and think about it).
I watch her standing there quiet for a time
the waves lapping at her feet ceaseless in their ebb and flow
And in sorrowful indignation i think who did this?
Who sought to destroy something so precious? beautiful? unique?
And it is then that i realize that
(perhaps by accident but nonetheless truly) i did
And there’s those two words in my head again
the ones that I keep hearing in the news
CLIMATE CHANGE
And my stomach drops as I look around and make connections
Through every wasted product i did this
Through every ignorant consumer decision i did this
Through every needless increase in my carbon footprint i did this
To some (who think generically and safely) the whole world caused this
But to my way of thinking (which is individual and therefore quite frightening)
i did this
My heart shivers.
Sharon still stands watching the sea
She hugs herself with sun-tanned arms and shakes her head softly
as the cool breeze brings back memories
of fish dinners and cemeteries and long days on the beach and a momma
and i can see such deep sorrow in her eyes
I touch her hand gently and point to my heart
my inexperienced heart the one that has caused this horror scene
my heart that seeks for change (constantly—perhaps endlessly)
and i tell her I will change
for you and hatteras island and the outer banks and america and the world
i will i will i will
Then Sharon smiles in the slightest saddest way and places in my hand a shell
All she says is don’t let your actions live forever as only words.
Reflection
Reflection
I live in North Carolina, USA, so the issue of the erosion of the Outer Banks is very real to me. Writing this poem helped me process a problem that affects my local economy. While all the islands of the Outer Banks are eroding due to rising sea levels, Hatteras Island, the most southern in this island chain, is practically disintegrating. This results in a huge loss of economy and natural wonder for North Carolina. In my poem, “Hatteras island (saying goodbye forever),” I hope to have captured two feelings: first, sorrow for what we have lost due to climate change, and second, hope for what we can still save. I personified those being affected by climate change in Sharon, a woman whose home and memories were destroyed by the erosion of Hatteras Island. In her, I hope to have portrayed the deep sadness and loss that can be caused by humanity’s general unwillingness to change their habits that hurt the environment. However, I also want readers to be left with a feeling of hope—we can still change. If we work together to decrease our carbon footprints and be more environmentally aware, Hatteras Island and the rest of the Outer Banks may still be saved.