My gut is filled with something vile and foreign

my heart, slowly dying in despair

a large part of my body has been damaged

suffocating the very life that moves within me

I am forever changed, tainted, weighed down

choking and strangling, while among THEMSELVES

THEY speak of the toll this has taken on THEIR lives

THEIR livelihoods; or, THEY argue about the next

bandaid to cover the gaping hole, but there’s none

large enough to hide the huge terminal wound

inflicted on me; though THEY do not breathe me

in order to survive, nor do THEY dependably clean my floors each day

nor fly without wings through me, nor frolic and play

in my depths, nor  flow peacefully with my changing tides

THEY merely take from me and use me for their pleasure and gain

I think to myself that THEY must not , cannot know me or care for me

for if THEY did, THEY would never have stabbed me the first time

But this, THEY did to me, and again, and many more times long past the first

with no regard for the poisons that might flow from those holes into my body

So, I no longer believe that I was ever revered with awe, as THEY stood before

my once vast beauty, or treasured me as one of nature’s remarkable gifts

for THEY have allowed this crude liquid demon to steal my soul

and now have left me for dead

for One Shot Wednesday

I am a life-long resident of the Gulf Coast Panhandle.

This poem was written with love for the Gulf of Mexico and it’s precious marine inhabitants, in sad response to the Gulf oil spill.

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