July 18
Dix Hils, NY
2021, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word
July. 18. 1968
It was my 18th birthday,
As we turned the corner in our Chevrolet Impala in Richmond to sixth of Lenington Drive,
Strapped in with me was Dot, and my journal
20 minutes after driving, I smelt the familiar salinity
Soon after, I was greeted with clarity of the water; raw and honest
As the water swallowed the sun,
The seagulls started to return the flight home,
The crabs surrendered into their shells
But, the waves continued to crash
July. 18. 1984
As winter gave way to summer of 84,
I headed to my childhood home, with my new family and Dot
With a light beer in hand, and a dozen pack of Capri-Sun in the trunk
We headed straight to the shore
Memories
I wiped the sand off my daughter’s cheeks
Consoled her when she couldn’t find any crabs
Helped her chase off the seagulls tempting at out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
And giggled with her as the seaweed came to tickle her feet
July. 18. 2021
I drove to the beach early in the morning, with my mom and my grandma
To be honest,
I only remember the ice cream we had near ports, in the fast-food courts
the shining sun melting the vanilla ice cream down my fingers in a matter of seconds
It was my grandma’s 71th birthday, and as the melting wax hit the icing, in the flickering candle
light, she whispered
“I want to remember the blue of the ocean’s eyes”
And I remember thinking, “What is so special about the sea?”
July. 16. 2039
The storm changed the shore,
Spat out all things human,
Sands were covered in clothes, plastic, glass, and living animals no longer breathing
The ocean’s last warning
July. 18. 2039
I see it now,
I stared at the only water I’ve ever known, dyed a murky green
Cigarette buds floating
Smelling of putrid glimpses of human life
Embellished with spots of oil, reflecting a rainbow of colors
Now fizzed with everything toxic
Wrongly accused it was, it once was my grandma’s fairytale
And the waves that held her memories
Once innocent, were now abused
In memory of her,
She was the tide that came in and out; constant yet ever-changing
Tainted with the reality of life, it was raw and honest
For my grandma’s last wish, I brought my son
Brought a trash bag and gloves
And walked to the beach
Reflection
Through my writing, I wanted to convey the changes of the beach through four generations, because I feel like the sea has experienced rapid, detrimental changes over the course of 80+ years. The intimacy of the story is brought by how a small family is impacted by the memories of the ocean, and as pollution poisons the sea. Furthermore, I wanted to tell others through my poetry that small steps are never too late in order to help conserve waters. I will continue to advocate and bring awareness for the revival of the seas through writing, protesting, conserving, recycling, and participating in beach cleanups.