What Can Happen in a Lifetime
Tacoma, WA
2020, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word
I ride my
Pale blue cruiser, with a piercing brass bell
And white knitted basket
Across the boardwalk
Still slick from a spring shower
Not far off
Windmills sing a joyful tune
That of overcoming
A small bird, fresh from her mother’s nest
With pale wings
And small blue fish in mouth
Swoops above me so gently
As though falling upwards
And the sharp musk
Of washed-up seaweed
Permeates through the soft breeze
Which tugs at the edges
Of my scarf
I wind a way
Up a hill
And stare below
The sloping bluffs
I spot the
Cerulean marvel, glimmering below
A prize from
Years of fighting
My hair is white but
The corals are not, or at least
They’re less so
Than when I was a girl
Plastic no longer spews
From the river’s curvy mouth
Which feeds into the ocean
A pack of children
Far below play as wild beasts
Unafraid, slightly feral
And I remember why
We did this
Beyond them I see
One dorsal fin
That of a gentle creature
Who was once named killer
Thrust itself into the air
Peeling the water away
On either side
Many others follow
Fins curved, each with a
Unique milky spot
Same skies different clouds
I thank the sea
For its beauty and its
Scaly yet
Ever-growing and multiplying bounty
Which I’ve grown fond of watching
No response
Only an echo
Bouncing between stony structures
No response
There is none needed
I have already shown my gratitude
And the sea has given me
The greatest gift in return
Another chance
Reflection
Reflection
In this piece, I fused some of my past experiences with the ocean with the future for the Earth I hope for. Some of the experiences and hopes I drew from include: the ever-present smell of seaweed on the waterfront near where I live, riding a cruiser through the cliffs of Kaua’i on vacation, studying Orca conservation in the San Juan Islands with my school journalism elective, and a world someday where kids can be kids, without burden. I’m admittedly a pessimist by nature, but for the sake of this poem, I learned to let myself dream. I let myself envision a world where people, as a collective, care enough to make a change, and I truly believe that such a place can exist. I encourage everyone reading this to find your place in the movement—as a conservationist, advocate, or anything else. Apathy is not an option. If the world I’ve described in this poem is a possibility, we must all work together.