Sorry, Mom
Princeton, NJ
2024, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word
The girl recoiled,
feet cowering from my waves.
Smudged shameful stains,
fleeting patches of sand,
her desperate footprints.
I shrink,
retreat,
gently brush against
the shadowed algae,
the army barrieing me
from the children who had loved you.
It’s not your fault, I reassure the darkness,
it’s mine.
I remember her eyes,
fragments of the girl that once stepped into your current.
Gleaming,
soaked hair,
dripping ends,
a wide toothless grin.
You released a gentle tide,
don’t fret, they will love you just as much.
How naive
my whispers,
I’ll make them grin a little wider.
Dissipated dreams,
echoes of the past.
I’m sorry, mom
They shrink away from us now,
dismay invading their bubbling excitement.
Why are they gone? He asks.
Another one — a little boy emerging,
hints of a frown clouding his shimmering face.
Goggles that hide his drooping eyes
as he peers up at his mother.
He had grown up too.
Once a toddler,
swaying side to side,
squinting eyes
in search of his sister,
far in the depths of your bay.
Dipping inside your coaxing waters,
craning for a glimpse of what you held.
I hope I can be his first time! I wished to you,
I’ll guide him to the wonders you cradle.
How I’ve waited to see their faces light,
bring joy in our reunion.
But now as if a late tide,
their anticipation washed away.
I’m sorry, mom.
Flashing back,
their sprints and exclamations,
colliding in your embrace.
The luminous
spectrum of life
you welcomed
thriving reefs,
nestled against your steady rhythm.
In the depths of precise coolness,
a glowing orchestra,
they performed.
I couldn’t wait in our farewell,
as I claimed your place amongst the Puerto Rican coast,
to greet the children and their eager eyes.
They’d finally arrived,
only to drown in what I had become.
Mywarmth that drives the explosion of
bottomless dark algae.
The source of barreness,
the plague that haunts life.
WhyamIwarming?
Why did I replace you?
Shattered the lives you sheltered,
a graveyard in its place.
Forgive me for the destruction —
the love you earned,
the trust you pieced,
the home you constructed.
I’m sorry for my warming,
my existence,
the murderer of your life.
I’m sorry, mom.
Reflection
Reflection
Before my trip to Puerto Rico a few months ago, I couldn’t wait to go snorkeling near the shore and explore everything that was written about the ocean surrounding this magical place. However, everything seemed to have dulled a shade when I arrived, all life lost. Even when I swam far out into the bay, I saw no coral reefs, colorful fish, or life. Instead, all that covered the sea bed was algae and clumps of dark seaweed floating about, with the occasional transparent fish scampering in and out. I am the girl that the ocean witnesses running away in this poem. With one of his first experiences snorkeling, my brother was the little boy in the ocean. This was the impact of climate change that I had witnessed. As merely a visitor to this part of our ocean, I have seen so little in Puerto Rico compared to the local children and families that reside near the ocean, but this experience still resonates with me deeply. I wanted to illustrate this drastic change through the ocean’s perspective - so this poem is the tale of the young sea and how they view their increasing temperature. They feel a deep sorrow towards its “mother,” who had previously acted as a home for dozens of coral reefs and all varieties of life. I hope this poem can portray the vast ocean's emotions surrounding us. Humans, in the pursuit of a better life, have killed the sea. My voice is not enough, but I sincerely hope this poem can make a difference and join many other young students in our fight against climate change.