The rocky coastline of Sliema, Malta: Soulless stranded creatures scattered around. Some a barely breathing, others are making a run for it. Most of them dead. In the middle there’s Ayra.
We are the unwanted.
Yes, we are the unwanted
Do you know what that feels like?
On a shore with no beaches
– not much at least –
Not for meat
Not to get through winter
But to push back into the sea
If we’re lucky
on the same small boat that brought us
If not -Let’s pretend we know how to swim
Do you know why it’s so easy to kill animals?
They don’t have language
Just like they can’t understand mine
I don’t have a voice
For no one will listen
For no one tries to speak
Beyond their borders
So now what?
I held my breath for minutes
while the Border Knights of Europe roamed the shore
poking sticks into lifeless flesh
Please, keep walking – keep walking
But there’s no way
I could run with this (points at belly)
Landed on the wrong island
It happens to a lot of us
But the rule is
Once off the beach
You can stay
It’s a game, really
To give the tourism a boost
Gazing through their binoculars
See who makes it
Bet money on who falls
face down on the rocks
Tripping over their pants
Because the fatless bones cannot hold them up
What sum of money would there be on my chances?
This work is produced during my residency at Teatru Salesjan, Malta and supported by the Malta Arts Fund.