Water Babies

The sea cradles our archipelago
In a forgiving embrace.
Winces at thieving hands,
Esurient, plunging into its coffers
To scratch and scrounge at
The bottom of the barrel.
Nets strain and choke,
Still she does not cry:
A mother’s love is unconditional.
The children are hungry,
But the ocean’s orchard is bare;
Our taste for the apple was too great.
Tainted by the leperous distilment,
The dark and intoxicating
Crude excretion of the earth,
She struggles to breathe.
The adulterate beast, blind with greed,
Reaches for the last deadly thorn,
The fatal thorn, to lodge
In the watery breast.
And it will be done.
And then the tears will come.
Stream down to hungry mouths and fill them
With the salty taste of blood.
Only when the fruits de mer are gone,
Will salt sting our eyes in bitter irony,
For we have forsaken our true creator.
When the last apple has been bitten,
Oh, how sour it will be;
Then real hunger will clear the minds
Of the orphans of the sea.
By YouthfulParaphernalia.wordpress.com

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