Liberty Leggett (Shanghai-Singapore-Seattle)
Learn to breathe in salt water
from the old dog with black lips and patchy knees,
who opens his mouth as he splashes forward.
Swallow a gallon or two. Open your gills;
breathe.
The sand-crabs are watching you:
thousands, amassed,
by the shoreline. Learn from them;
let the water crash at your feet,
and when the oceans rise over your heads,
and fall again, leaving only wet sand,
let the bubbles you exhale tell your loved ones
you are here.
On the docks, grey-haired uncles are waiting
with their crab traps and fishing lines.
When the rolling storms come past the cargo ships
and ocean liners outlining the horizons, leave behind
your buckets full of silver fish. Take
what you need;
follow them.
When I was ten, I learned to open my eyes
in salt water. I saw a swordfish
teach an eel to play the piano on volcanic rocks.
Follow them: dive down,
touch rocks. Peek at sea urchins.
Float upside-down and gaze
upwards to see where your ankles
break surface tension.
You can learn too.
Soon, our island will be underwater.
The kampongs, bungalows, sky scrapers—
they were made for this. They will stand
in the ocean, grow tall as the sun. And what
about us?
We can return to our mothers, and their mothers,
and the mothers before that.
Lie belly-down on the sand. Let the ocean rise
to take you home. Learn to look down.
Be dense. Be brave.
Learn to breathe salt water.
Liberty Leggett is an almost-twenty, almost-American, and always-homesick artist currently studying at the University of Washington. She was born in Shanghai, grew up in Singapore, and is now learning to make Seattle her home. She is mostly succeeding.
