Seek

Fishing For Me

Humans lure me, trap and hook me

For food, pleasure or game

“Fishing” is the given name

My fluttering protests snubbed

My piercing bones affronted

Into pails I am flung

For later, for fate to be slung

Never postponed, for my body limp

Gasping for air, none for my gills

Hooks and lines now obsolete

Trawling us, for coffers ne’er replete

Death ever so slow, in-nuanced

Ghastly choking amid abundance

Air, air everywhere

And not a whiff to respire

Marine mates consume me

For food, never sport nor game

Whose nourishment I supply

Their survival, my demise

Eggs I lay by the thousands

Sacred life’s cycles to continue, undeterred, fecund

Dancing around our mate

Without need to fornicate

Life on the outside to procreate

While inside, of rape to obviate

Humans lure, hook and each other murder

Never for sport, food, game nor leisure

Since their arrival, killing tools ever deadlier

Victims grieving, for departed ones

Mad, enraged but powerless at guilty ones

Slaughter often massive in scale

Habitually genocidal, as survivors wail

All for god or dogma, tribe or oil

Abundant prep with untold toil

At any price must come the spoils

Never executed as going “humaning”

Murderous excursions ever expanding

Toxic fumes perpetually dispersing

Peace or harmony barely lasting

History repeated, always recurring

Life’s end now assuredly looming

We preceded by millions of eons these Homo sapiens

Evolving away from, not with us, bizarre aliens

Ever since, the planet’s never the same

Still, our dancing, ovulating proceed just the same

In refuges deep under with safe lanes

Even against odds stacked by colossal fishing

‘Tis the “humaning” that’ll be the planet’s undoing

And when we are gone…so too will be fishing

Fishing no more, impending end of “humaning”