Transform
By Sarah Jane Mulvey
The ocean is our world’s finest artist.
She is multi-talented
– a sculptor, painter, weaver, dancer –
Each treasure, great and small
Offered up to our searching hands
To collect in pockets and keepsake jars.
all her glittering gifts at our fingertips.
She turns even disaster into something to marvel at –
Shipwrecks scattered on the ocean floor
Become home to an abundance of life,
Full of coral and seaweed, tiny crustaceans and fish
Each detail lovingly carved and cradled,
The careful art of a sailor’s grave.
Have you considered how many genres she has perfected
When you stare at the deep, impossible purple
Inside a quahog shell?
Or the perfect symmetry of a cowrie?
the dramatic flare of a conch shell,
With its sunrise pink lace?
You probably have one of these tiny masterpieces
Somewhere in your home
Set on a shelf or coffee table
Contained and complete as it is.
Her artist’s signature
The sound of rushing surf
When you hold it to your ear.
Her imagination and ingenuity
On full display as she sketches out
coastlines – inlets and harbors,
Dramatic cliffs and stunning beaches,
Ribboned with seafoam and salt.
A tireless perfectionist,
Her waves crash and recede
Redrawing those lines
Over, and over, and over again.
We build our homes so close to those borders
A desire to reach out and touch her
In the midst of her process
And we’re always surprised
When she must eventually rush past us
Overwhelmed in her ecstasy
As she clears her canvas.
She’s managed to make something out of
The amalgamation of human error and irresponsibility
That has become the Great Pacific Garbage Patch,
Floating out there in some remote part of the map.
she’s sculpted the mess within her currents,
disrupting her own flow –
But still, somehow – holding space
For fish and shorebirds far from home.
They survive despite us.
She creates despite us.
And we comb the beaches for more.
Bits of broken glass
That she has made safe and soft,
frosted and smooth.
Pretty cobalts and sepia,
Sun-drenched lilac and emerald.
Reminders of what we have lost, or thrown away.
Of what we still stand to lose
If we continue to take
Without considering all that she has to give.
It starts with honor,
Thanks for every resource and treasure.
From those delicious little shellfish
To the bones of massive creatures
That feed us, teach us, inspire us.
It starts with respect,
For her power and her skill.
Of which we understand so little.
It starts with us,
It starts with one piece,
one salvaged and cherished bit
Churned through, sanded down or carved up
Turned into more than it was.
Jewel-bright and beloved,
shining in the sun.