In the quiet pulse of the lake,
a mystery hums beneath scales and fins.
Scientists kneel with open hands,
their whispers curling like smoke over water.
There is a shadow spreading in silence,
a rare betrayal stitched into skin.
In Lake Memphremagog, between breaths of borderlines,
catfish carry a sickness heavier than their spines.
The language of tumors is not one they know,
nor is it something the lake can translate.
Underneath the silvered glass of dawn,
the catfish move like questions unanswered.
We are not so different from the water,
from the veiling of grief in cooling ripples.
When something precious begins to break,
we count the cracks, hold our breath.
But who tends to the crisis underwater?
Who listens when gills begin to whisper?
The scientists press their palms to stillness,
as if their hope alone could heal a lake.
The water keeps its secrets longer than it should,
but the world has always been a patient listener.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: July 25th, 2026 03:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
Offline)
Comments2
A metaphor within a metaphor where fish is man and lake is ecosystem. A good write Gray
Thank You Soren I appreciate your feedback
You are most welcome Gray I remember fishing with my father a reservoir when a child and catching fish with sores. My father said put them back we won't eat those.
A good deep write my friend much enjoyed
The you Norman
always welcome
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