Au début, ce fut le chaos. La terre s'est mise à
scolded and I was torn away, carried off, removed from my
father, of my mother, of the rest of the archipelago.
J'ai longtemps dérivé sur les océans sans fin. Les
Storms were frequent, and even today I do not
I know how I managed to get through it without falling apart.
Puis ce fut le silence. Les éléments se calmèrent. Pas
immediately: it took thousands of years, eons
Maybe.
Je ne dérivais plus. Je m'étais fixée sur une crête,
in the midst of the waters, since that is my natural environment. I was
alone. I had had time to shed all my tears
(salty) from my sandy body, but now I was tasting
solitude.
J'avais été coincée dans le petit groupe d'îlots de
my childhood and I had often wished for a cataclysm
to break this attachment. In the end, it was done…
I was alone and quite happy about it.
Les jours s'étiraient lentement au soleil. Une barrière
coral had accumulated and protected my beach from
assaults of the sea. I let myself bask on the shore.
Nonchalantly. The rare rains were enough to satisfy my
greenery and the nascent fauna in my center: rodents,
a few invertebrates and a lot, a lot of birds.
Ils m'intriguaient : s'ils avaient pu voler jusqu'à moi
in such great numbers (on some days, I was covered in
their cries disturbed my telluric sleep), it is that
I wasn't as far from another world as that. Perhaps
to be part of an archipelago, like the one of my childhood. But I
I was careful not to let go so I could get closer. I
I was not going to give up my peace so easily.
Je me fiais ainsi aux éléments pendant des centaines,
thousands of years until a change in
The behavior of the birds is warning me. Fewer chirps,
less cackling, fewer feathers,
Fewer seeds, fewer nests, fewer eggs… Fewer birds!
But why had they all fled?
J'ai mis un certain temps à comprendre que j'avais vieilli
Alone… and, um! not aged very well… My wildlife had fled from me,
because my flora, no longer as lush as in my youth
was no longer sufficient for her sustenance. I was peeled, dry, not
very approachable
Mon appétit pour la solitude m'avait trahi. Depuis
For a while, incidentally, I saw myself leaving: my strike
had narrowed, eroded by the surge that the corals
no longer stopped. My coconut trees had no more heads…
Beheaded by the cyclones!
La sécheresse avait tari mes sources. Je devais faire
a sorry sight in the middle of the ocean. And now that I
I was wondering: no adventurous sailor had ever set foot on my
beaches with a conquering stride. Ah, that! I paid dearly for my
Solitude!
Papa, maman, mes chers frères, mes petits îlots chéris,
Where are you?
Le chagrin était si fort que je résolus de partir à la
searching for my lost archipelago. And even if I should
If I don't find my loved ones, I'll stop at the first atoll.
that I would run into… I would ask them for help, I
I would wisely integrate into their ecosystem, without making any
waves, like the gentle little Tertiary island that I am.
Mais je devais apprendre à mes dépens qu'on ne se débarrasse
not of its sediments so quickly. Despite all my efforts to
to tear myself away from my environment, I remained frozen on my embankment,
rivée à ma crête. En exactement 15 789 ans, j’ai bougé de 23
centimeters… and even then, not by my own means: a tremor
underground soil. Apparently, that happens sometimes. Anyway,
approximately every 30,000 years.
Alors j'attends. Seule.
…
Personne n'est une île. Nous avons besoin des autres pour
To survive.
Even though we sometimes enjoy distance and solitude,
We remain political animals, that is, beings
who flourish among their peers. Those who
who renounce the trade in human beings often end up like this
small island: they are no longer resupplied, they are deteriorating, they
feel frustrated, try to live off their own resources…
and exhaust them. Against boredom, against weakening:
Reach out to your loved ones, friends, or family.
(c)2004 www.club-positif.com
Happy reading and big kisses to everyone
Marie
