by Painted Dog
For the whales and our oceans - a poem
They sing for us
Song echoes in the deep
Where giants call in sorrow-
They grieve, they moan, they weep.
Their ancient knowledge sees tomorrow,
A sea of filth choking the young,
Abandoned ghost- nets murdering kin.
Plastic offal strangles life of all forms and
Racing screws drowning song with din.
If you could see into their gentle eyes
A sorrow and sadness so clear,
They float, graceful behemoths,
Carrying ancient wisdom dear,
And watch as we destroy and pillage in glee.
We who cry freedom at every turn-
We who wallow in our own filth, we who never learn
That our greed will never see us free.
Massive flukes flick swirls of power,
Cetaceans begin a timeless journey.
Summer sun drives them southwards,
They seek minute millions to swallow with massive throats
That precious krill in the cold South they hunt with yawning jaws.
Although no longer do fleets follow to murder
Cloaked assassins lurk with nefarious purpose.
Crashing gun. Flashing harpoon. Fluking knives fillet.
Blue waters turn black-red with precious blood.
Again our cruelty must we slake-
Alas some gentle giant never to sing again,
But rather a scientific meal make.
The planet of water swings through its’ celestial arc,
The sun creeps ever northwards in perpetuity
Every year we celebrate-
Their timeous return with that season.
Driven by wicked cold and giant seas northwards,
To calf new life in safe haven and
Gleefully spin in joyful joining-
Their next generations into this world they bring.
They return to this southern shore for us, for life, for the universe
10th August 2017
Rob Reid – “Painted Dog”_ a first cry for our oceans