The fishes are gone

I have been diving early dawn, 
from one reef to another, 
and into the depth of the shoal, 
from sunrise till sunset, 
but caught four tiny fishes, 
and a dead oyster, 
quite disturbing, 
the fishes are gone.

Very vivid in my thought
just five years have passed, 
my father had fished for an hour, 
but brought us 3 tubs full of fishes, 
and a pail of flowing abalones
and sea cucumbers, 
in his pocket, 
two beautiful shiny pearls.

Not so long ago, 
where the fishes laid eggs, 
blue, red and white corals, 
tiled the natural beauty of the reefs, 
but now are blackened, 
dying in cyanide poisoning, 
broken into pieces by dynamites' explosions, 
deliberately uprooted and sold to China's 
insatiable market, 
they are too dead, 
and gone.

something's bothering every morning, 
inside of me, 
fear is wildly growing, 
one day if it will arrive, 
fishes will just be part of
humanity's saddest memory, 
the heroes of legendary books with ugly scales, 
and swimming on the pages of folk tales.

It is quite not pretty, 
seeing a bamboo black cross, 
standing in the middle of a reef, 
shouting out a message, 
the sea is dead, 
and all the fishes are gone, 
gone even in our wildest imaginations.


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