the sea, risen.
Today, the sea, my sea, has been struck by a lightning of divine justice, but it has not killed her. The electricity fills the water that lay before me with form, here by the white sand, and like Lazarus she rises from her tomb, waving her currents to the sky.
The sea, my sea, which my brothers and sisters killed out of pure human negligence, as if it were a starving child, laid stagnant in the sandy basin that the coral reef can barely support.
The goddess of Justice gives her life today, and gives her being, and makes her a person. Today the sea, my sea, is filled with the soul of hundreds of fishermen and divers, hundreds of passionate people and those children who, like me, grew up next to this sea.
Her corals turn bones in her water, and algae form the muscular tissue, while the fish become her stomach, and the seahorses scamper in the marine breeze from her new feet to her head. The jellyfish are her nervous system, and water turns into her new life. The foam surrounds everything, white, as the skin of a new body, and as the curling hair like waves.
Today the sea, my sea, is reborn and risen, from agony at the hands of matadors, bullfighters of destiny, who are thirsty for chemicals and riches, any money. Today, my sea rises from her crib, stronger than I have ever seen her.
She now places one foot out of her bed, she lifts her hand up higher than the skyscrapers that the sleeve* of her shirt threatened her with. She rises and gives way to a beautiful body, however she wishes to imagine herself, but beautiful, and with a firm step, lifting her eyes, the sea, my sea, walks to the courts of the international gaze, expecting, taking her lovers on her sleeve*, to defend her wherever she goes.
Today the sea, my sea, is made a real person, breaking into a room full of corrupt judges, and reclaims her right to life, more than ever. Today, my sea makes herself be seen worldwide, she is so small but so fierce and vociferous. Today the world goes silent upon her scream that asks for freedom, and does not want to be hurt.
Today, this sea, my sea, is not a minor** anymore. She is now an adult, and today she is sacred. The child I saw grow up now has the strength of a mother of an entire secret coast for the thousands of children that ever bathed in her waters.
Today the sea, my sea, has come back to life, and I believe in her more than ever.
** The sea this poems refers to is called the Minor Sea (Mar Menor). This poem was written when Spanish MPs voted to give this sea personhood status, so that it could be defended in court. That would explain the pun.
* One of the places on the coast of the Minor Sea is called The Sleeve of the Minor Sea (La Manga del Mar Menor). Look it up if you don't believe me. This is a pun on the actual place.