Everyone’s Glass Darkly

The moment I was screwed shut
the air a pleasant carbonate
outside flotilla
began its escort
from port to sea,
sea to shore,
and back again,
always the tides,
spent surprises
from Coney Island loop the loop
to lazy lapping over shell laden beach,
always my view untethered.

Open.

Free.

So easy to remember.

He/She knew not the course,
this voyage of hopeful message.

Her/his pencil deft upon my recycled skin
the pressure was kind,
the "love Terra"gentle,
the adoption plea desperate.

It's cold at night.
Balmy within by day.
Ocean visitors gaze upon me,
their gelatus eyes in wonder of
who goes there,
this scribed symbol within.

Mute as I am,
they seem to understand,
giving me wave of fin,
blink of eye,
even escort at times.

Of late however,
my message begs risk.
Oil and dredge smears cross my lens,
my transparency clouds.

Yet further the tide
carries my message
into the “Dead Zone’s” murky waters
where greed-colored life
floats its collateral damage aimlessly about.

Innocent beaks but grave posts of greed.
Once life filled wings,
but part of the gathering weight
now becoming mere anchors into darkness.

It's night time

All the time

Discarded garbage my obstacle.

All the while,
a planet loses trust.

A bottled message becomes garbage- locked.

The world’s children sit at the shore

Closed.

Imprisoned.

My journey
floats not for now.

Perhaps another sunrise
will find its way through
the glass darkly of another kind.

Perhaps.