In the dim blue light,
the cage sways gently,
a metal fortress now alive
with darting bodies, flurries of fins,
a frenzy of silver scales gleaming,
like stars caught in a net,
bumping against the bars,
searching for a way out.
Outside, the sharks circle,
their shadows gliding slowly,
cutting through the water
with a predatory grace,
but inside the cage, chaos reigns,
as fish thump helplessly
against the grim reality
of their sudden entrapment.
It’s like a party gone wrong,
a disco of desperation,
underwater flapping and flailing,
as if nobody got the memo
that they were not the main attraction,
that the real danger loomed,
just out of their sight line,
patient, hungry, and unruffled.
And I can’t help but wonder,
as I watch this fishy drama unfold,
if they think about the simplicity
of the wide ocean, how it stretches,
how it welcomes them home
with open currents and coral,
even while they muster
the courage to leave the cage.