The Woman and the Whale

Whenever I speak I'm aware of the sound

and whoever is around

to hear.

I used to fear

my accent,

because it teaches

where I come from, where I stand

and on these beaches

I held the hand

of my mum when I was a child

and I smiled

up at her as the most beautiful person I'd ever see.

These are the pieces of me.

But the pieces, those parts

the stuff of hearts

are not where judgement looks

judgement burns our books

closes libraries and schools and Industry

judgement throughout our history

is unkind

to any mind

who might find

themselves in poverty.

Look at this whale

the story is practically stale

it's been told so often.

But it's forgotten

the moment we walk away,

let this story stay,

let this one be heard.

Every word

you must understand

this body on the sand

shares so much with me and with you

and with anyone who

who has been forgotten or ignored

as part of this flawed

system.

I talked my accent away.

There is a bitter price to pay

for that.

But whenever she speaks, it echoes through time.

A voice that carries through the impossible climb.

Up and over and round all

the waves

a call

that saves

the lost

and the young

the fragile and unsung.

She supports and navigates.

the community she appreciates

is built like a family

We are as similar as we can be.

These are the pieces of her.

And would it occur

to you

how true

the comparison is?

Mammal to mammal

the sea to the shore

it is core

this connection

an inbuilt sense of direction

a plan.

We both have a role

we both have a plan

holding on a course

as tight as we can

but signals from all sides

mix us up inside

and drag us in directions unexpected

to places we find ourselves unprotected.

Stirring up trouble

how it bubbles

to the surface

we start to drown in two different places.

We are exhausted

our resources

are spent

we may present

outwardly as sturdy

but it's absurd, we

live in a culture

of unashamed vultures

where every body

is a commodity

Continuing exhausted

living as the resources

taking and draining

any creature remaining

able to to feed this machine

it is obscene

but still

with no time left to kill

only time to bill

get back on the treadmill

and go

because survival relies on

constantly moving on and on and on

We are so exhausted

Our resources

have run dry

I’m cut adrift, she’s dragged to earth

and what sense of worth

was placed on to us?

Essential worker, essential creature

but not enough

in a world that views those sleeping rough

as deserving it

And those living in the seas

as too separate for concern

with all the fossil fuels we burn

and the plastics we churn

through the water.

We are bombarded with sounds and never heard

not one word.

Not one whale song

no matter how strong

that voice is

our choices

are taken…

I just want

The freedom to scream

At every thwarted dream

Though every quarantine

For every creature unseen

And every human-being

Who treat every other being

As less than.

Scream with frustration

at every situation

both faultless and with fault

use our cries to jolt

the stagnation

enough of conversation

Lets make noise!

Whenever I speak I'm aware of the sound

and whoever is around

to hear.

I used to fear

my accent

but my most recent

descent

Into the songs of her

stir a sense of pride

inside

and I don’t want to hide

the gory

truth

and story

the proof

of the connection

Between the Woman and the Whale