So I am this lighthouse This outpost This saint of loneliness and light. So I am this statue of solidarity Sunk up to my knees in frigid waves Standing in the steely sea. So you say. I am not Self isolating I am safely growing in the shade Under the blanket of an overcast sky. I am not Worse off Without your skyscraper frame sitting Heavy on the beach beside me. What you don’t see How the grassy cliff hugs me Shelters me as you never could. What you don’t see The contrast between the gently windswept pine trees And your harsh, cold profile. What you don’t see How your toxins leached into our waters Bleached the sky pale. So what you don’t see I am not This wilting orchid, poisoned by the salinity of the ocean. I am a strong-willed thistle, taking root in the fertile soils of my new home.