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.