So, I’m half mermaid.
From my mother’s side – my dad was a sailor –
and only from the waist up.
Nobody can see.
I inherited my father’s legs.
Lucky me.
And the only tail I have,
is a tale to tell.

Now, blood is thicker than water.
as they say.
But try pumping the latter
through your veins.
The ocean runs inside me.

I have a salt encrusted heart,
cured
to never go bad, to never get hurt.
Not even the pirate
who tried to steal it,
tide after tide after tide,
waving at me from his galleon
as I stand ashore,
my dress drip drip drip dripping,
drops being absorbed into the sand,
was ever man enough spoil it.

And as I stand before you,
again: lucky me, for having legs and a voice –
not all mermaids have the privilege,
nor the honour -,
I want to ask you,
take good care of her.
I know you will, I know you want to,
my blood is your blood,
we share the same salty veins and
ever windy hair.
But she has given so overflowingly,
that it’s easily forgotten,
she is not ours to take.

My ocean view,
my outlook on everything blue,
is a simple one.
Half mermaid, half sailor,
I’ll sing you a song, yoho.

Please, think of her first,
before anything other.
She is your own blood,
she is our own mother.
May we treat her as such,
and she will always provide,
curing our hearts
tide after tide.