Grieving for Fish Tahlia Growe

Grieving for Fish

The first time my eyes set sights on the ocean They marveled at its blue majesty Pearly caps of giant waves far bigger than me. The ocean, where my feet dreaded the thought of stepping on a sea urchin, Where palm trees would grow around the sparkling shore, Together, side by side, like a little family leaning towards the sun.

In the water beyond the waves Just below the horizon, sea life, And all kinds of unknown creatures, came up To look at the tourists trashing their ocean home. Trash and garbage coughing up the fish, Plastic weighing down sea turtles and whales Tying their intestines into a repulsive knot. The trash curdling in their bellies Jellyfish unable to go back home Tangled in debris left behind by careless people. There they lay on the scorching shore along with their fellow starfish, The blazing rays of sun frying them.

When I touched the sand, Its heat set my feet aflame Sizzling them. The shells and pale sand under me went “Crunch, crunch, crunch” in between my toes. Suddenly…swiftly The roaring tide swept my feet up, a huge wave Plunged me into the icy cold water. I fought to get the salty taste out of my drying mouth.

Sinking...dropping… I felt myself falling into the Everlasting body of silver water Farther and farther From the shore. The water was starting to get murky and disgusting With all the garbage around me. The air vanished from my lungs, My eyes started to fade into the deep, murky underbelly Of the unforgiving polluted sea. Is this what the fish feel? Trapped, but in their own home Underneath all this litter?

My brain was racing for a way up, In moments of desperation I kick, kick, trying to reach the surface Until I finally emerge to fill my lungs with the fresh air.

Since that day, I think to myself We should try our best to clean up the Messes we make. At the beach, Instead of not caring about the bottles of glass and paper on the shore. If we don't, it will end up in some poor fish Killing them from the inside. Slowly, but surely, trash will clog them up In a slow painful death.

The first time that my eyes set sights on the ocean…

Tahlia Growe, Grade 7 Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview Teaching Artist, Desdamona