I go to the ocean to come alive.
Whether I step in the waves or sit on the shore
I’m lured into trance by its waves, colors, constant
roaring without a breath, and the piercing answer
of sea gulls. This only lion I dare approach
looms larger than the land of earth, and paws
at toes, tugging, trying to pull me in. It roars
Move Now Or BeCome Part Of Me now as always.
I carry a small trash bag which I fill
with bottle caps and cigarette butts. I don’t see
the plastic I've read strangles sea life. Plastics don’t
stifle the lion’s roar on the shore—but at night
I dream plastic wrap ‘round my cats till they can’t breathe,
till they drop in their tracks while waves roll on and on.
And waking, I see the plastic sea in my home
trash—bottles, bags, and wrappers. I feel them roar.
*Here is the caption: "
*Here is the caption: "A monk seal (Monachus monachus) with a plastic water bottle. Marine animals often mistake plastic items with food. Photograph by Paulo de Oliveira"