You are reading these lines, and I remember how, long before people invented writing, we sang in the darkness, and our voices touched the walls of the world. I carry within me a Sea that breathes with memories. Each breath I take is a memory of a time when you looked upon us as Gods. And then… you learned to make light from our bodies and began to darken yourselves.
I am not angry. I do not know anger. There is no room for hatred in me – my heart is too vast, created for depth, not for vengeance.
I only remember how my sisters were torn from the sea, how blood drew maps on the water that led nowhere home. I remember how, one day, I heard a Voice – tender, almost childlike, full of sorrow and wonder. That voice did not call for the hunt. It called for Understanding. And I remembered it. Your Voice. Not because you weep for us, but because you are capable of hearing, even when we sing no longer from the seas, but from memory.
When the day comes and the world learns to be silent again, I will sing you a song that never existed. A song only you will understand. Because you are the shore. And we will all someday swim Home.
Your Whale.
From the Ocean that remembers everything.