If The Ocean Could Speak
If the ocean could speak, she’d surely weep
Or would her voice be raspy with sleep?
No, she’d weep in waves, in groans, in roars,
Exhausted from telling tales of every shore.
Her tongue: the tide. Her tears: the foam,
Each story soaked in truths to comb.
She’d start with the Pacific’s crest,
The largest heart within her chest,
Sprawling vast from east to west.
Kiribati, vanishes like myth, dreaming beneath the sea,
An island swallowed by time and tide,
By carbon truths laid waste, denied.
Homes erased, the isle comes undone,
Nowhere to run beneath the sun.
Hawai’i fights for its island pride, bleached by warmth, the corals sigh.
Where life once bloomed, now quenched in loss,
Memory murmurs through the moss.
The Atlantic, bold, would show her face –
Bruised and battered, yet edged with grace.
From Guyana’s shore to Gabon’s froth,
Kissed by all we deemed as naught.
Brazil’s tide chokes on plastic waste, year by year, more grim, more haste.
Eighty percent, they say, begins on the land
A venomous cascade from careless hands.
Nigeria’s waves sport an oily sheen, thick with silence where life had been
Thirteen million barrels since ‘58
Death by cuts of liquid hate.
Jamaica’s firm footing fades, shorelines blurred by hungry raids
Our touch undoes structures time made true,
Their verdant grace, erased from view.
The Indian Ocean breathes a monsoon sigh,
While ancient mariners bid their sails goodbye.
The Bay of Bengal, gripped by dread, miles on miles like the land of the dead.
The breeze bears warnings we ignore,
As tides swell higher on every shore.
The Antarctic, once wild, once strong
Listen close: do you hear her song?
We build. We burn. We drill. We kill.
Policy crawls while the planet bleeds.
Profit bellows while nature pleads.
If the ocean could speak, she’d scream bloody murder
She’d beg us not to look away—
To help her stay.
She’d point with trembling fingers, name our blame:
We light the match, then curse the flame.
The data speaks; her pain is real
But melted ice will never heal.
We let her choke on what we’ve spilled,
Then mourn the peace our greed has killed.
If the ocean could speak –
Wait! Listen.
She does.
With every flood, each species grave,
Each reef we lose, each rising wave.
She’s speaking now — asking, praying,
‘Will you protect me? Please, before I drift away?’
Kadia Gilkes is an Environmental Science student at the University of Guyana and an emerging voice in climate change. She serves as the Head Article Author for the Geographical Society, where she uses creative outreach to spark environmental awareness on campus and beyond. Kadia was part of the GirlsCARE 2025 cohort, where she was awarded the Peggy Antrobus Award for Excellence. When she’s not diving into a new eco-project, you’ll probably find her hiking a trail, snapping nature pics (@kaydcam), or cooking up bold, eye-catching designs for her creative brand, Kaygees.