Tag: family

#PoeticAnswers 45 – Do You Think Snails Are Horrified by Hermit Crabs?

I was honestly suprised to discover
That this is a genuine thing.
I think it’s easy to forget that
The circle of life extends to those
Beneath the waves,
Where the seaweed is greener
And aquatic creatures roam and take control.

A humble sea snail,
A quiet, reserved soul
Gently and slowly meanders among
The coral and sponges.
He says hello to his friends,
And all creatures are his friends
Because he has no anemones.

But despite all his friends,
He is often alone
When he retreats into his home
There is no room for company
So he leaves himself exposed.
Unsuspecting and trusting,
Taking life at his own pace.

One day he passed away.
A clownfish suggested that
“It was his tide”.
The pun went unappreciated.
All the sea creatures went to his “fineral”.
Apart from the clownfish.
They weren’t allowed due to inappropriate humor.

But it was a beautiful ceremony,
Angelfish sang a heavenly requiem.
They say the sea is so salty
Because of the tears of fish at funerals for snails.
This is probably not the case,
But a funeral is not the time to argue semantics.
He fell out his shell and was buried in the reef.

A few days later,
A homeless hermit crab was
Gently and slowly meandering among
The coral and sponges.
No friends, no anemones,
Perfectly cold and alone.
Until he saw sad, empty shell.

He knocked once, and then twice
Thought to himself
“This shell looks nice”
He retreated inside,
It wasn’t too big,
But this could be home.
He slept on the seabed, safe and warm.

But then uproar commenced.
The sea creatures were incensed
By a mighty rage for their fallen comrade.
“This shell isn’t yours!”
A voice cried,
“How can you be so shellfish?”
Everyone turned to the clownfish and stared in disgust.

But then the waters turned still,
A voice came from the reef,
Quiet and reserved,
It was beyond belief,
The ghost of the snail said, “We’ll I’ll be damned”
“Friends, don’t be cruel to this poor, little crab,
“Did I teach you nothing in my time on the sand?”

“I’m now one with the waves and don’t need my home,
This crab’s just like me, don’t let him feel alone
Sweet little crab, if you come out of your shell,
You’ll become friends with these fishfolk,
They really are swell!”
The sea creatures felt ashamed and extended their fins,
The old snail was right, they let the crab in.

The ghost fell away into silence
And the sea came alive.
Some wondered why the ghost of the snail
Chose to speak in rhyme because it wasn’t like him,
But they mostly came together to welcome
The lonely hermit crab,
Realising that the real horror is prejudice.

The correct term for this is commensalism
I like to think of it as a
Bizarre ritual of inheritance
And a symbol of hope and new life
On the ocean floor.
This means the snail is not horrified but accepting of change,
And we can all learn from the sea creatures.

Apart from the clownfish.
They’re just inappropriate and insensitive.

Question from Taylor D. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 31 – When Did You First Realise Your Parents Don’t Know Everything and Can’t Fix Everything?

I remember being small,
Not emotionally or mentally,
Just in terms of being a child.

When I was sick, my dad
Would make his signature soup.
It was nothing overly special,
Chicken, rice and vegetables,
But it tasted like being better.

When I hurt myself, my mum
Would pick me up and clean my cuts
With the weird white cream
in the non-descript bottle,
Kiss it better and send me on my way.

It was just moisturiser,
And maybe it’s that over exposure
That’s made who I am today,
Soft and gentle,
Not much of a fighter.

But my dad didn’t like that,
I didn’t overly like that
Because boys were tough,
Rough and tumble, branch and bramble,
Carefree cuts and badge shaped bruises.

From boy scouts to black belts,
I tried to earn whatever rank it would take
To feel like I was on my way to
Being the best I can be.
But I wasn’t doing it for me.

Because I still remember
When I was six years old
My dad was rushed into hospital.

A work accident,
He went from tree surgeon
To needing a surgeon
And I was too young to understand
What hemiplegia meant.

Mum’s magic cream cculdn’t make
The pain go away
And he couldn’t get the special soup
Because he couldn’t get to the kitchen
Because the doctor wouldn’t let him.

Seeing this man who’d been
My idol and rock
Suddenly become bandaged rubble,
Putting on a brave face for me
When he knew he might never walk again.

So he would just lie there,
Being strong for all of us.
Like the rock in the river
Just before the waterfall.
Something to cling and climb onto.

Never showing signs of erosion,
Never crumbling to sand to become part of the riverbed.
Fighting time and tide to finally
Find his feet and run and jump the best he can
Because he was the rock on which he built his family.

I never really wanted to fight,
And this pansy-poetical, theatrical life
Wasn’t really what he had in mind.

He might not understand what it is I do,
He might not understand how he’s shaped me,
I’ve got blackbelts and trophies for taekwondo
But he was the one who tought me
What it really means to fight.

We grew up and grew apart,
I learned I am not the people my parents are,
And I might never be what they expected
Because I’m a lot of dirty words to them
But I’m okay with that.

There’s a lot of me that
They might not agree on because
They’re rocks, strong and sturdy,
But they don’t move,
They don’t change.

But to go through that,
They might not like theatre
But it was a performance I’ll never forget.

They’re still the strongest people I know.

Question from Jasmyne M. from Facebook