Seeing Double

 

Kwiisahi?is
Brave Little Hunter
Photo by Zeballos Inn

How to hold this April morning,
on the West Coast of Canada
in my one human
overloaded brain?

The cherry trees in bloom,
rhododendrons opening their pink buds,
blue sky, the eternal waves,
beauty as far as I can see

while, elsewhere on the planet,
bombs fall, children hide among
the rubble. I fill my porridge bowl
while innocents starve

and the disconnect,
among those who govern
with power instead of humanity,
between their agendas and
the horrors of reality,

creates a two-level existence:
the one I am living
and the one I am all too aware of
across the globe.

Meanwhile,
one small orphaned whale
circles the lagoon in which
she is trapped
while humans take too long
to set her free.

Everywhere, the innocent are suffering,
our hearts too full of grief
to bear the pain.

for Sumana's prompt: April. 

It is a schizophrenic existence these days. April out my window is beautiful and blooming. On this side of the window is the daily news, horror upon horror, no enlightenment, no relief anywhere. And the small whale is still alive, but tenuously so, while rescuers contemplate their response. They are doing their best, but time is of the essence, as they know. The most hopeful plan is helicoptering her out into open ocean, and containing her in a net until her pod - hopefully - swims by, then releasing her. I would prefer them lifting her close by her pod and releasing her, but this has been ruled out. It will be traumatic for her, there is little doubt.

It has now been seventeen days since her mother died. She is diving for longer periods and still calls for her mother every fifteen minutes. We don't know if she is eating.

I am trying, with my entire will, to keep her alive until  rescuers can get her out of the lagoon and set her free. Surely we can get ONE thing right in a world that has apparently lost its collective mind. One small whale, alive, is not too much to ask.