The Sea

Reflected in the eyes of the refugees

You devour their childhood dreams

And when no one’s looking,

You throw them up to the heavens

Along with your froth.

You do not know, do you

How important you are to these people?

How much they give up

Just for one glimpse of you?

And one house with windows looking out to you?

You do not care, do you

How many people die

On their way to see you?

How many relatives they leave behind

To achieve prosperity on your side?

You do not fulfill, do you

The thousands of dreams

Articulated on your shore?

You haven’t seen, have you

That you are not the famed turquoise jewel anymore?

That you are as brown as the tanned skin of the refugees

Who continue, no matter what

On working hard to achieve their dreams

And who think that you are full of dreams and desires and love and longing

While instead you are full of dead bodies, clay, plaster,

Tree branches, adornments of unknown origin,

Oil, dead fish and sewage?

You are too full of yourself, aren’t you

To not see that you have destroyed

All hopes of those who come to seek contentment

But instead find themselves on your edge

Jumping in, their minds full of depression and suicidal thoughts?

Instead you think they are offering themselves to you, as sacrifice

To you, a dirty, murky, brown body of water

The sea.


This post was inspired by the incredibly dirty yet surprisingly beautiful Indian Ocean which I pass by everyday on my way to school.

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