From the slough came webbed feet; paddling towards.
Visiting us, the boat dwellers, sailors, and fisherman.
Staring longingly he did; with pleading and depth.
Large, brown eyes, conveying more than hi.
Perhaps a message from the world underneath.
As when the whales arrived...
The stars in their eyes, dancing and bellowing.
‘We are back. Those that stand in admiration, hear and understand. Speak for us.’
A timely visit…
Many humans flocked to pay tribute, to witness them so close.
But when it came time to stand, few spoke. Even fewer acted.
A case of willful blindness?
The very water in which they live is in danger of err.
Everyone knows. Most deny. Ignore. Chose anything but responsibility.
The underwater beings know. How could they not? With such keen awareness...
Speaking among themselves in their own special language.
Sensing our unspoken word.
Provoking us with their visits.
Reminders quietly swimming in circles.
A mere glimpse of underwater space occupied. Showing us.
They live here too.
Through gifts of sight comes appreciation, subtle warnings.
To us, the people.
Walking towards the edge of Howe Sound, my body leans into the blowing wind.
Its fierceness lashes around my face; the powerful vibration twirls in my ears, echoing unspoken messages.
Its desperate plea of urgency unyielding.
Our ways verses theirs. What about our way and theirs?
Like clean bath water for a new born, they too, need the same.
To be housed, feed. Treated gently, without prejudice.
Would they put this steel snake so close to a child; a human child?
Near an adult human... A river? Through water?
Up north they do. And it poisons. Kills. Tarnishes.
They don’t care. Do you?
A tanker so close...
They would drink the same waters; forced to occupy the same space.
Weaving in and around this giant shadow that stops them in their tracks.
A force runs through my veins, stronger than an easterly wind...
Shaking me from slumbers of greed and need.
Blowing words through feeling. Do more; do something.
My right hand rises for those who speak other tongues; my back faces snickers of laughter.
We’ve taken enough. No?
Imagining a better way. Do more than fleeting petitions and letters.
Take less. (Way less).
There’s power in this.
What water do you drink?
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