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
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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