Camouflaged by Light - Aug 19 2020

 

Camouflaged by Light

Aug 19 2020

Deep sea predators

in the dark forbidding depths

are fooled by phosphorescence.

They look up,

discerning shadow

against the meagre light

that weakly filters down

through cold inky water.

But their prey illuminate,

adjusting perfectly

to wavelength and strength

to make themselves invisible.

They are camouflaged by light.

They mimic the sun,

never having felt it

or even seen the sky.

Yet they are oblivious,

the brilliant alchemy

of cold chemical light

they perform unconsciously,

just as our hearts steadily pump

our cells battle viruses

our eyes take in the world.

The sea is full of such creatures,

as if the cold dense blackness

was lit up by fireworks

ghostly sparklers

and shooting stars,

a pyrotechnic display

air-breathers like us

could never have imagined.

Light from the sun

travels almost two hundred billion

metres to earth,

but at a mere one thousand

creation is sunless.

Like the universe

before the big bang.

Or as if a black hole

lurked not far beneath the surface,

lethal

and bottomless.

On a moonless night, the ocean is calm.

As we walk ankle deep

along the shore

through the still black shallows,

a trail of bluish light

is swirling round our feet

where the algae have been disturbed.

Either protesting our intrusion,

or lighting up

to welcome us home.

As if the ocean were alive.

Which it is, beyond our wildest dreams.

So many things

we never imagined

hiding in plain sight.

So much we have to learn

outside of ourselves;

shining our light

into unfathomable darkness

that too soon swallows it up.

It's humbling to contemplate the alien world that exists a mere 1000 metres beneath the surface. Where it's as if the sun doesn't exist. Where it's as dark as the universe before the big bang. Where in the impenetrable darkness, instead of illuminating, light could become camouflage. What else could we not have imagined, do we not know?

And yet this magical experience is right there, a foot from shore: in bioluminescent algae, who warn of predators by lighting up.

We came from the ocean. Salt water runs through our veins. It may feel alien, and it may be lethal, yet it is our ancient ancestral home. There is great power in the word “home”. I used it intentionally in the poem, and I hope that strong emotion comes through.

The idea for this poem came from the most recent episode of the podcast Every Little Thing (https://gimletmedia.com/shows/every-little-thing/o2hoo86/why-is-the-ocean-glowing). I listened a few days ago, and at the time thought fleetingly that there might be a poem in this. Apparently, that idea was fermenting somewhere deep in my brain ever since, because the first few lines came to me today. So I sat down at the computer in my usual pleasantly caffeinated state and riffed on it. It pretty much came out as you see it here.

(The earth/sun distance is closer to 150 billion metres. But “200” scans a lot better than “150”, so I took some poetic licence, figuring that the “almost” was enough to make up for the extra 50 billion, Not to mention that gargantuan numbers like those are pretty meaningless, anyway!)