FISHERMAN
My father once told me about the most successful fisherman in our village.
How he would go out to the waters to cast his nets,
& it would seem as if he sang a special tune to the fishes,
Because they would converge in his presence,
Each fighting for a space,
Dancing excitedly at the prospect of being caught by him,
& when he pulled it up, even fishes that weren’t caught would jump into his boat.
My father said when you ate from this man’s soup,
It would seem as if you were swimming in the river yourself.
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I grew up in a family where we were taught that we can be fishers of men
Where we are told to just cast our nets & no matter how still the water,
Our faith is enough to conjure up fishes.
Sometimes it doesn’t;
Because still is still no matter how much faith you throw in it.
Sometimes it does;
We should not underrestimate the abilities of the world inside
By what we see on the outside.
Sometimes my mother tells me I’ve got oil on my head,
but I always have bigger fish to fry.
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I see other fishermen dedicate their fishing to one species,
But I seem to be fishing for everything and nothing at once.
I have fished in territories I never should’ve wandered into,
& I live every day wondering what my repercussions will be.
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I’ve now become a fisherman with a loner complex.
Chased by loan sharks,
Swallowed by whales of doubt,
Engulfed by ripples of bitterness so powerful,
It transforms my anger & frustration into a storm tearing everything in its path.
My self-control is a ship carrying all these gifts,
Sinking the love story between the boy & the potential.
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I do not have a fishing method.
My habits are shaped like a barracuda hunting for my dreams in the water,
My ambition tied as bait for any fish that catches my fancy.
Sometimes I am like a parrotfish,
I tattletale, as I mistake repetition for wisdom.
Most times I am desperate like a polar bear pre-hibernation…
I am now beginning to discover
that the sea was never what needed conquering.
Every wave I blamed, every current I cursed,
Every monster I imagined, encountered, consumed, & allowed to consume me,
Were all just compasses with sharper teeth
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My father didn’t tell me about one creature I never thought to fear.
He didn’t say that a fisherman learns who he truly is when he has a hook in hand
& a large sea to venture into.
So, I grew up believing there are many fish in the sea.
I became a fisherman, out in the sea with my hooks and devices;
and instead, I got hooked on all these vices.
Look —
The fisherman caught himself.
