I am always looking up. One arm is raised in an arc above my head and the other rests in a half circle down by my hips. My face is fixed in an expression of grace and a hint of pride. Straight hair falls around my shoulders and tiny sea creatures are carved onto its surface. My hips flow into the shapeless form of an elegant evening dress, replacing what could have been my legs.
Colourful fish swim to and fro, startled by sudden movement and sound. They shimmer in the sun's light, casting tiny dancing patterns across the ocean. When they swim above my head all I can see are shadows. Dancing, twisting, turning shadows that play in this cool curtain of water.
Boats of all sorts float by, keeping the sun's rays from touching my skin. I see massive cargo ships that pass by in a cacophony of sound. I see sail boats that float by carried by a breeze. I see fishing trolleys with their hanging nets casting criss-cross shadows across the ocean floor. I see all this because I am always looking up. Always watching the surface even though I now belong here underwater.
Algae clings to my gray body, giving it colour and texture. Tiny creatures crawl across my face, nibbling on the plant as they go. It refuses to grow on the smoothness of my bare face and arms, instead hiding in the creases of my hair and dress. I like to think that I am an angel in this light, and only in this light. When the suns rays hit the water they come through as hazy blue-green shafts of light. When the light touches my skin it begins to dance in abstract patterns and for a brief moment I forget who I used to be.
I used to stand proud as a greeter next to the massive golden double doors of a grand ballroom. My sister stood on the other side. She was my mirror image as graceful and proud as I was. Times changed though but statues last a very long time if not forever. The hotel where the ballroom resided was to be torn down. My sister and I, along with many other fancy decorations and artefacts, were packed away on a massive cargo ship heading out to Europe.
We were to be sold to at an art auction down there. My sister and I were going to be advertised and sold as a pair so that we would never be parted. We were parted though. Two young men carried me all covered up in saran wrap off of the ship and across a metal walkway. One of them slipped, legs sprawling out beneath him. The other was unable to hold my weight alone and he dropped me over the walkway and into the ocean. I sank feet first until I hit the sandy ground, water enveloping me in a liquid curtain.
I live here now. If you could call a statue living. The saran wrap has long since floated away, carried off to a new life whatever it may be. Still, I remain here. Where fish dance to the gentle push and pull of the ocean currents. Where boats pass overhead casting shadows across the ground. Where shafts of light burst through the water's surface illuminating my world with a blue-green haze. And slowly, very slowly, the ocean is claiming my soul. No human would ever look at me now and call me beautiful, but the ocean thinks otherwise. I wonder if my sister still stands proud even without her mirror image.
Remember. If you think that you are not being watched then you are wrong. Creatures live below the shifting surface, watching the world around them. They feel instead of think, and dance instead of move. They never judge and that is okay with me, because I am just a statue at the bottom of the sea.
Remember. Remember that I am always looking up with one arm raised in an arc above my head and the other resting in a half circle down by my hips. With a face fixed in an expression of grace and a hint of pride. With straight hair falling around my shoulders with tiny sea creatures carved onto its surface. With hips that flow into the shapeless form of an elegant evening dress, replacing what could have been my legs.
Let me be lost but not forgotten.