I learned once
that great white sharks can’t be kept behind glass.
There’s something about them.
In captivity, they don’t survive long.
They don’t understand glass walls.
They get hurt. They don’t eat.
They get sad and confused.
They weaken. Then they die.
One brief call told me that
a great white shark was born into a glass fishbowl,
— you could see it through my grandmother’s eyes.
It happened over just a few hours. Strokes attack quickly.
They destroy futures.
For the survivors, they create new ones.
I got to see it for myself when I visited.
With my nose pressed against the glass, I tried to see her, really see her.
She was swimming circles inside, frustrated because the words
don’t come out right. No matter which ones she tried,
the silence spoke louder:
LET. ME. OUT.
The speech therapy helped some.
She has always been and always will be a talker.
Time as well, enough that
we can understand her, if not always the words.
Looking back,
I am thankful that her great white shark
found escape in the nick of time.
It might not look that way to others in the open ocean,
their minds and mouths in perfect sync.
Unscathed, no,
she is forever changed.
But still resilient.
Perhaps that’s how she found freedom.