A dull palette of bleached chrome
seeps through my peripheral vision,
a gray version of once-thriving reefs.
Dying coral floats up to the sunshine shores.
I see no life around these watery depths.
Only Death surrounds me.
Moving down into the navy blue sea,
a suffocating presence has settled on my chest.
Darkness folds over me.
Then there is golden light
surging into the warm sunlit water.
Relief washes over me like waves hitting sandy beaches.
And this time, it’s different.
This sea world, no longer a monochrome ciné newsreel.
This pristine blue world, a plethora,
a twenty-first-century pixel of a lustrous luminosity.
I hum along to the ocean’s harmony.
I swim through gorgeous coral reefs—
lipstick pink to a soft bridal tint,
Acropora clathrata, subtle salmon shades.
Swirling up, I reach for gliding turtles
near dark evening blue elkhorn contrasts against cobalt staghorn.
Little tiny Dorys dart around twisting emerald kelp forests.
Colorful biomes of fluorescence clash against blue pastel waters.
Dozens of Nemo clownfish flutter around me.
I pedal my flippers up to the surface, away from the sandy stingrays.
Suffocation.
I clutch my throat, gasping for air.
Useless air tanks lugging behind me,
I claw at the water, frantically attempting to break its surface.
Rays of the once-beautiful sun disappear.
Somewhere in the beyond, something stirs—movement.
I reach toward it.
And the sea exhales.