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A poet’s perspective on shipping’s ocean clean-up challenge

A poet’s perspective on what our oceans have represented throughout the ages and what challenges lie ahead

Prize-winning poetry urges the shipping industry to consider the ocean as it grapples with climate change

“I BELIEVE that poetry has the power to make people stop and think in a way that few examples of the written word can,” explains poet Salim Bhimji.

His poem ‘Dereliction: And the ocean too weeps’ offers a unique perspective on the challenges ahead for the shipping industry in 2023 as it struggles with ocean conservancy and climate change.

Mr Bhimji, who was nominated as a finalist for the prestigious Montreal International Poetry Prize this year, wanted to highlight what our oceans have represented throughout the ages, but also address the more contemporary concerns of climate change and pollution in his work.

The poem, which will be published in an anthology set to be taught as part of the English Literature curriculum at several universities across North America, is reproduced here with the permission of Mr Bhimji who wanted to offer his perspective on the ocean to the shipping industry ahead of key climate decisions to be taken in 2023.

 

 

Dereliction:               
And the ocean too weeps               

                                                Through restless centuries I have powered
                                                Heroic onslaughts by commanders
                                                Of the great empires.

                                                Across the ages, man has longed to unravel
                                                The mystique that shrouds me.
                                                The scholars of science reach

                                                For me to uncover secrets of the past.
                                                Pioneering men seeking out new lands
                                                Deemed me the crowning conquest.

                                                Mighty industries flourish because of me
                                                And dynasties shaped, by men
                                                Who wove their steel through me.

                                                For entrenched within, like incipient gems,
                                                I meld the very elements with which kingdoms
                                                Power prosperity. Yet no man can own me.

                                                Agile and self-replenishing
                                                I am a mirror of the heavens,
                                                Nestling every rhythm, in cycles rippling.

To the unwitting I am formidable.
But the same seek solace in me;  
In the soft, soothing songs         
That dance through my being.     

I am the cradle of life for billions.  

                                                Yet, for all my elegance, I am now bereft.
                                                Wounded. The turning tides, so harsh,
                                                Have left me ravaged; in anguish.

                                                How I yearn to be cherished again. Grant me the dignity
                                                I deserve.
That dignity which was once unspoken,
                                                Then, almost broken.

                                                To survive, I must search reach clutch
                                                At new ways to reinvent myself.
                                                A mere ritual since times long past.

                                                Except these are dark days
                                                And I face ferocious thunders ahead.
                                                Yes, I am wrenched by the unknown.

                                                Though known by many names, I am unique.
                                                That I might look invincible
                                                Is simply part of the mystique.

                                                Beyond the drifted ocean,
                                                A heroine’s grief; spoken.

 

© 2021: Salim Bhimji.
All Rights Reserved

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