The Ocean Speaks Elephant

Based on the last remaining Knysna elephant, who stands at the edge of the ocean every
morning because it’s the only place she can hear sounds within her language’s frequencies.

Good morning, Ocean. Your crabs are out today, the pebbles shimmy to make way for their
tapping feet, the wind carries salt and the tones of a piano playing itself in a house where no one has ever lived before–tell me, when you dream, do you dream in our language? They say Elephants never forget, but I’m starting lose track of which words are shorthands and which are formal, parting clouds give way to sunrise hues, dandelions sprout from blood–when my mother said “what comes in bubbles will disappear in bubbles,” was that just a secret between us or was it campfire song as we gathered around for warmth, played mancala on the floor of our cells, the light bounces off the apex of your waves. Sometimes, in the dead of night, I can hear you hum her lullaby. I try to sing along but at this point it’s largely improvised from the surviving fridge magnet letters, arrange them into a circle and step inside, a spell of sorts, cast it with my trumpet, welcome the newborn baby, it’s a girl, the last matriarch. It’s funny. I hated so much of my childhood, tang ina, akala ko nakakaawa kayo eh, na mas maayos ako tas mga gago lang kayo lahat, na mahahanap ko yung tunay kong bibilangan sa ibang bansa. Bwisit talaga yung bata na yun. Tanga tanga nya eh, but now I’ve never felt more like a deformed puzzle piece, study me with scalpels and shape my edges, I need a haircut, please be careful around my neck. The human word for soul is anima, and their word for me is animal. That’s funny, right? Spread the joke around, the sandpipers are playing tag, leaves drift down to lethargic sands, gorilla adopts a cat, I can feel you hold my ankles. I come here to remember. Remember our syntax, remember our tones, the arrows, stampedes, percussion heartbeat, morse code. Sometimes, I wonder how long it’ll take before all we’ll have is the melody, where every line has sunk to the depths of you, and every scientist who taps into our frequency using their giant machines will wonder what words are worthy of this grief. Never let them know it’s a love song, it’ll be our little secret, your whale is showing. I’m not going to lie, ang hirap talaga dito, wala akong kaibigan na nagsasalita ng tagalog, tang ina, wala nga kong kaibigan na pinoy eh, isa lng ang nakita ko, drag queen, nasa telepono siya, ginusto kong magsabi kahit alin, pero nahiya lng ako, isip ko, pano kung wala naman siyang pakialam, pano kung parang ako siya, sometimes I fantasize about being human. Walk on two legs, make doctor appointments, hey do you want to have dinner with me, oh sorry I can’t, I have to see someone about my car, it’s convinced that the doors are open even when it’s not, it won’t stop beeping, but please don’t think this is an excuse for me to not have dinner with you, I really do want to have dinner with you, and I know I’ve been delaying it for so long, but please don’t think this means I don’t care about you, I care about you so much, please understand that I care about you so much, I just never really learned how to juggle all of this–but most days I’m happy to be an Elephant, even now, the clouds form their likeness, maybe especially now. The scientists treat me well. I’d even call them friends, good friends. They feed me, wash me, hold me, grieve with me, tell me secrets, nestle them under the flaps of my ears, they’re crying, hush now, it’s okay, I whisper, it’s a new day tomorrow, what comes in bubbles will disappear in bubbles, but I don’t think they understand, sometimes you leave bundles of foam on the shore, I call them foamy, my pets. I don’t resent the scientists, kaunti lng, I know they love me, pero nalulumbay parin ako, I just wish you were closer, the whale blows water into the sky. The humans make a distinction between instinct and choice, it is what they use as evidence for their evolution, look at me, I can betray my animalistic qualities, I can be good, I can find divinity–the birds are playing the song of their first kiss, watercolor trees and canvas sky, the whale crescents like the moon, can you hear them ocean? Could you translate for me?

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Jaric Sarmiento is a multi-genre MFA candidate at the University of Alabama and co-creator of 108webnovel.com, an interactive multimedia digital novel. His writing is featured in “No Contact,” “The Other Side of Hope,” “Southword,” and “A Velvet Giant.”  He is also the 2024 online co-editor of Black Warrior Review. You can find him on Instagram @anflowcrat