Poetry
Deep Ecology
Photograph by Brad Ogbonna

Water emerges. Under

The shower in Lisbon

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the sprout serenades

my body, it pusates

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a sprawling spring.

Gushing, I close

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my eyes & I am

stuck, in the sea,

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lopsided against

the rushing waves.

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He died

in the water, he couldn't swim.

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Same day I see a headline

of a Sudanese teenager

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washed up on the shores of

Calais. To drown. He died

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In the water, he couldn't

Swim. My mother tells me of a boat

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capsized in Cox's Bazar,

deep ecology.

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She fears water, so I do, too.

Traumatic retention, but have I drowned?

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I cannot recall. But I do recall Pacha Mama,

a merciful beast,

we don't deserve you.

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He died in the water, he couldn't swim.

The wildness usurped him, engulfing him cold.

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Mama, take what is yours,

we are born of you, seventy percent.

The tides call us, an adhaan.

I am a wave, take me, I pray.

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Mother, make me strong.

If you want my body, I won't fight.

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I'll die in the water, too.

I'll swim to you.

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