The Sky of the Fish

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Whirling, somehow without emotion. Still, whirling.
I’m just part of a spiral, spinning, twisting through waves. Water, water, air...
Never flat.
Aside me, there’s a misty ethereal light, burning the ocean with my back. A thousand of my brothers and sisters making a shape we’ll never see. Some great purpose, will notice the ink of our skins and water.
I’ve never seen the sky. I think that’s what they call it, the sky.
I crossed all the oceans, earth, fires. The pain. Creating paintings of our schools.
I’ve seen warm, I’ve seen cold happiness.
Still I have never seen the sky.
The clouds, I’ve heard from turtles swimming past, are like sharks when they jab their dark faces into the sand, and destroy their dunes. They burn in my eyes, and sting on my skin, filling the holes of the coral.
I don’t want to see the sky. Not anymore.
Thier protector is the sky.
My protector is the ocean.





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