Down in the Depths: The Spotted Handfish

The waves sway and dance to the rhythm of the wind.                                                        

I wonder how it feels to know you can’t stay below the soft glow of the sea forever. 

                The waves I treat like my tour guide, I take their lead, sway to their beat. 

Going down, down, down. They guide me to impossible places, with others of my kind, although I know that most are really gone. 

                 I stare up into the gloomy, soft light seeping through the sloshy waves like  

                 sunrise through a curtain. If I peer further, I can almost see my ancestors, mingling  

                 with the spiralling stars. 

I let the steady heartbeat of the sea take me away to a soft nook in this vast, blue home. The nook keeps me safe. Safe from the morning. Safe from the fishermen. 

                 The nook comforts me as I watch the other soft, scary species get lifted into  

                 the blinding light above the skin of the blue. 

Flashbacks from the days when I almost got snatched hit me with a blow like no other. 

But no, I am not the past, I am the present. For I am not the only one left, I can hear the soft scuttle, scuttle, scuttle, of my spotty friends on the floor. There’s not many of us, but it is enough.