Poem from a Pitiful Creature

Give me a sign that I’m still alive

The abyss is my comfort in the deepest parts of the shallows

For it never turns away from my blighted face.

It's silent. Eerie. Loving.

Not an insult nor a joke,

Nor disgust.

I am ugly.

But I did not ask for this.

What fault do I have for being born disfigured?

For my jagged jaw or a head bigger than my body?

For being colored the same way as my dwellings?

I am a reflection of my home, a place I’ve only ever known.

But I also crave the warmth you are blessed with,

While I remain on the bottom,

Searching for the food

That may not come.

A lantern

Is my only defense.

My livelihood if you will.

Perhaps this mimics the light from above,

The one you take for granted when nighttime comes.

Even if it may cost me my life, I want to see it.

Experience the brightness that lives above my head,

Knowing it will outshine my ugliness.

If I can reach it someday.

If only once.

But,

I’m not made for the sun.

Only when I’m to wither in the water,

Will I be able to reach such magnificent lengths.

So, please, ignore my marred face and my pitiful fins,

For when I try swim toward the light where you thrive.

My lungs will collapse and my bones will break,

And you will see how ugly I am.

But compare my lantern,

To the one you have

In a sky,

Colored the same as mine.

We are different, but maybe another time,

You will be me, and I will be you.

Even then, I will search for something I cannot have.

In the end, near the surface, I have to accept the life I was granted.

I won’t reject the abyss nor the silence, because

I can’t feel the longing warmth, the light. Yet,

I still head towards it

Deaf,

Blind,

And dumb.

All I ask is that you give me a sign that I’m still alive.