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Writer's pictureGabrielle Tola

itẹbọmi (as told by a fish)

Updated: Jan 14, 2021


I.

the day you almost drowned

you tasted

the same saline air i breathe you

thought you made a tomb

of my home

you spit out the waters

in which i feel most alive

it wasn’t in disgust

but oh, it stung

how that which soothes me

was so foreign to you

II.

i was pulled up

grip tight on my hair

so that i could breathe again

i only felt in distress

once I was taken out of the water


saltwater in my nose

saltwater in my throat

i could barely walk

but i can’t remember another time

the world had moved so slowly

III.

you seemed to be dancing in the current

the way the waves combed through your hair

over and over

did you forget that

a human’s body isn’t stronger than the ocean?

your legs flowed like the sweetest waltz

it was the swiftest slip

IV.

the earth stopped moving for

what felt like eight years

i didn’t realize when I lost control of my body

i only saw water green


a Fish


only felt peace

from the bottom of the water

where time didn’t exist


i had never felt so close to the universe

until i succumbed to the tides

*

i beg forgiveness

for becoming a settler and forgetting my origins

you probably met my ancestors

they probably talked with you

you swim, uncolonized

making oxygen of holy water



they say Saltwater cures everything faster



in the earth’s tender womb

i felt

I finally went back home



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