Seething midnight blue ripples across the front page of my
magazine. A glossy photo of surging seawater encircles a
humpback whale’s slick skin bound by acid-yellow ropes twisted
tightly, slowly sawing its mouth and fluke. Desperately thrashing, the
whale churns white waves, its sides festooned with clusters of
fishing buoys, blooming like poisonous fluorescent flowers. Year
after year, one after another, whales drown, their flukes severed by
tangled fishing gear, helplessly sinking down to sunless ocean depths.
This one whale was given another story by a band of biologists, fishers
and a Coast Guard crew. They raced against the chop, against the minutes
against fate’s cold hand. Faces wet with salt spray, eyes searched dark
roiling waves, at last they spotted the whale slowly swimming out to sea.
Leaning out over gunnels, grasping sharp gaffs, risking stiff fingers, slicing
ropes and nets, sawing until their shoulders ached and finally they cut this
wide-eyed being free. The whale looked back, then slowly swam away into the
twilight. Suddenly, it leapt, weightless for one impossible second, a reborn world.
—
An author and artist, Deborah Kennedy’s work focuses on the challenging relationship between ourselves and the larger natural world. Her book, Nature Speaks: Art and Poetry for the Earth was recognized with the Silver Nautilus and the 2017 Eric Hoffer Poetry Book awards. Deborah’s poetry has been featured in The Midwest Quarterly, Caesura, great weather for MEDIA, and Leaping Clear, among others. Currently, she is a Creative Ambassador for the City of San Jose.
