Love From, Rachel // Two Belugas, Two Blue Guys

This is the second piece in a collection entitled: Love From, Rachel. My Sister’s deepest desire was to publish a book of poetry. It would tell the story of her survival, the story that would keep herself—and one day, others—alive. When she died, she left behind 15 journals from her 5-year battle with mental illness: the heartbreaks, the horrors, the abundance, the vibrance, the love, and most importantly, the hope. We now pour ourselves over these journals, continuing to learn intricate details about my Sister long after her body has been laid to rest. Her journals give the impression that there are enough of her words to fill our lifetime. But I recognize that this is only blissful protect-myself-now-deal-with-it-later ignorance. One day there will be no more pages to turn, no more words to share. But until her words run dry, I will open these well-worn pages, to share them with you.

Two Belugas, Two Blue Guys.
Love From, Rachel.

We sat by the whale tank,
And watched for many minutes,
It is good to feel small sometimes.

They were doing a patterned routine,
Flipping halfway through,
I wondered if they did this because they were taught to
Or because they were bored.

Did they feel the sense
That their beautiful bodies
Were being smuggled by lack of space?

Did they feel a discomfort
From my
Did they care?

Their skin was smooth,
Their bones stuck out
Around their hips.
I questioned if this was irregular,
Having never seen them up close before.

And I’m wondering,
Do they feel small sometimes?
Does the weight
Of their enclosure
Smother their thoughts,
Like a wool glove
Too tight
A numb hand?
Do they even
Think about the freedom
That they are entitled to,
But cannot have?

Sat marvelling at the beauty of their bigness
And the beauty of the vastness
Of all living things,
And my existence
And my place
Within this.

It is good to feel small,

If you’d like to begin from the start of this collection: Love From, Rachel click here.

Cover Photo Credit: Bailey Mahon