I'm remembering more about our trip to Costa Rica, finding a way to share the ocean beauty at this particular place we landed and also that thing that was not beauty. I've been to ocean shores many times and have sailed on large ships yet rarely (except on those ships) have I seen such powerful, enormous waves. We loved them and were careful to take care of ourselves lest they sweep us away.
One thing that reminded me of an Oregon coast trip was the incredible amount of driftwood brought onto the beach. Here's one picture. Some days, huge logs arrived on the incoming tide only to disappear with the outgoing sweep. We spent some time imagining what we might create if we had access (at home) to those beautiful wood pieces.
However, strewn within the wood was a lot of trash, washed up from who knows where. We found no names. Our discoveries started with a tire, which we filled the middle of day by day. I did not take a picture.
Sadly More Than a Drop
Old tire, riding the waves,
wandering across a divide
joined our vacation.
Between the nightly roaring lullaby
and the kick at the body while we swam,
you rode the amusement park ride
called the sea.
Your inside ring became our trash can,
filling up with the plastic that never dies:
bottle caps, toothbrushes, pieces of broken toys,
and the ringer of all, a small drawer.
We carried on the task every day,
wondering if what washed out again
before we found it
wandered on over to that garbage patch
everyone keeps telling us about?
And, we wondered if the ground-up pieces
we couldn't see also traveled in and out,
or nestled into the sand, waiting to be dinner
for the crabs and the sanderlings
lively on the beach?
We can read the scientists' reports:
We can read their warnings.
And back home,
we can stop
plastic use,
remembering
what that tide brought
with the beautiful wood.
But it feels
like only a drop
in the bucket.
(Oops, in the ocean.)
Linda Baie ©