The ocean people

Thousands of seabirds
dive into the orgy in the warm waters.
The giant riders of the deep blue,
join the commotion
and turn the turbulent canvas into a bloody carnage.
Streaks of sunlight
prance like a ballerina
on the violent splashes of salt and blood.
 
Many miles away,
shoals of turtles swim towards an archipelago
to nest on the white sands.
A young boy from the nearby village
stands on the water’s edge, where the wild waves
crash into the shell-decked rocks,
and waits for the arrival
of the ancient mariners.
The turtles paddle towards the beaches
once in three years.
Last time the turtles landed,
the boy’s father took him to the sanctuary
to show him the shy visitors peeking out of their grainy nests.
Now he came alone.
His father, a true soldier, lost his life
in another bloody carnage on the mainland.
 
At the deepest layers of the ocean,
the virgin waters are untouched by the light of day.
It’s a dark silent desert.
Somewhere near the last frontier of existence
is an iridescent oasis speckled with scanty lifeforms
that look like terrorizing creatures from another era.
Their appendages
are like long strings of fairy lights
or constellations from another galaxy.

The boy on the shore
breathes in the ocean with anticipation.

As the sun drops its curtain,
the air in the back alleys of the village
is filled with the strong smell of simmering fish stew.
His eyes twinkle with glee
as he sees the first turtle emerge from the voyage.