We hear it from our teachers, neighbors, friends;
Be cautious when swimming in the deep ends.
You could lose your sense of self,
And drown in the surrounding hurricane.

The urge is too great, the thrill so compelling
We’re drawn so close; the feeling keeps dwelling.
No matter how many times somebody says,
“You’re a fool to stay in the water.”

So we keep on swimming, in search of the perfect match,
Only to end up repairing yet another patch.
There isn’t much room left on the boat,
Nevertheless, that doesn’t stop us from targeting another fish.

It’s so unfair though, we don’t realize--
The harm within the victim which we fertilize.
It isn’t until the day that follows the tsunami
That we acknowledge we aren’t fish…
We are fishermen and women.
We cast our lines capturing countless casualties.
Luring them into a fatal trap.
The hook stings the prey,
Leaving us appear as bloodthirsty sharks.
The string is so durable, so magnetic.
Why can’t I just give in?

-David Rombouts-