We used to swing our legs above the sea,
and skip our stones across the surface,
tell tall tales of coral reefs,
while we waited for the turtles.
When they’d hatch here every year,
we’d given them names
as if we’d raise them;
as they clambered for the waves
we felt like parents on the pier.
Growing up, we’d drink our juice,
then sip our sodas,
then chug beers,
leave our boxes, cans, and bottles in the sand
as souvenirs;
flood the beach with decorations,
declarations we were here,
we stood on wide-eyed watch for turtles,
till the day they disappeared.
Fran Mbadiwe
Please note that opinions expressed are the author’s own. They do not necessarily reflect the views and values of The Blank Page.
