took the fresh baits
From inside my cap
I stared out at the waves breaking
On the rock
One, two, three round
Until they fall into the net…
They do not usually let me participate
I sit on the white sand
Barefoot, while the shells touch my feet
The sun’s rays burned our skin
And the sea healed the hangover
The sharks are still lurking
Of small vessels
While men anchor them in the bay
While women and children celebrate their arrival;
We celebrated the lull
We celebrate our nomadic survival
We rebuild daily
No time for crying
The tears do not beat the salt of the sea
I see its white foam
While we run, there is no time for sadness
Our livelihood depends on it
Because we are children of a capricious land
And we do not bow so easily.

Even with the freezing breeze
Blowing on our face
They leave with a heroism without equal
I follow because I want to be free too.
And they in turn rebuke me
They say I’m too young.
And that I will disrupt them
I insist, jump inside the boat
All this in vain
I return home
And it hurts like they deny me
My right to choose
No time for anger…
I wipe away the tears and
To move forward;
I find her carrying a huge
Weight on her back
We went all over the gorge
The sea is upset
And they keep paddling…
We shout out to be careful
With the stones and the force of the wind
They wrangle coveting that everything
Around depends on it
Row against the stream that tries to swallow them
No time to feel fear
So the little boat docks in the bay
And she gives him a big smile
The seagulls continue singing
But the rasping whistle of the waves
Struggle to take the children of the sea with them
And they fight bravely
Try to keep their livelihood intact
While the relentless fury of the Atlantic
Chews patched wood
Until only the housing remains
And there is no time to look
In memories
Every day is a fresh start
As if we are reborn even stronger;
I fix my eyes at any point
Until it is all over a blank screen
Because there is no time for frustration.

By Mariana S.-F., 24, São Paulo, Brazil