Without Intent

It is thought she died of post-release mortality, 
her 13-foot long, 1500-pound body 
traumatized by what happened after 
the hook was firmly embedded in her jaw. 
 
I suspect the great white would have preferred 
to die a natural death; not to have been dumped 
at water’s edge by a Florida storm, dragged 
behind a backhoe for two long miles, dissected
as a specimen for scientific learning.  
 
I suspect she would have preferred 
to have been born a bottlenose dolphin, 
loved and forgiven for mistakes made 
when she could not see clearly; 
to have been accepted for the role 
she played as keeper of balance 
among the mighty predators of the seas. 
 
I suspect she would have preferred 
a more melodic song hummed at her passing–
not the famous two-note theme song 
synonymous with fear. 
 
As her body lurches through the sand before me, 
I see the open jaws, rows of jagged teeth, 
once white underbelly now pink with blood, 
slippery gray skin shining silver in the sun. 
 
But it is her eyes, black and piercing, 
that prompt me to retrace the tire marks 
and find the chaotic scene in the powdery sand 
where she was discovered, lifted, 
tied with a towline away from the sea.
 
I bow, for I suspect she did her best. 
Isn’t that all any of us can do? 
And prefer someone to notice? 
 
for the Great White Shark of Navarre Beach