A poem by Zach Affolter
 
Sweet, blinding light
shimmering through the night.
The one that paints the colors in my dreams
and casts shadows on that bottomless ravine.
 
Sweet, blinding light
haunting me in the night.
The one that I could never be,
not unless I was free.
 
Sweet, blinding light,
fading away into the night.
The one that fails to illuminate their crimes,
despite our never-ending cries.
 
What happened to my sweet, blinding light?
The one that brought us out of the night?
Why did it lead us down to that shadowy place
when we longed for its warm embrace?
 
Did we even follow the light at all,
or were we blinded by our own falls?
Is light something that we see with our eyes,
or something that we create inside?

Sweet, blinding light
trying to guide us through the night.
The one that we continue to ignore,
our bodies weathered by that dreadful storm.
 
Why do we turn away from the sweet, blinding light?
The one that wants to help us out of the night?
Would a ship turn towards the shore,
or wander back into the storm?
 
Sweet, blinding light
dying in the night.
The one that flickers away from us
as we crumble to dust.
 
Did we even see the light at all,
or were we blinded by our own walls?
Are those clouds too dark for light to shine through,
or do we need to look from another point of view?
 
Stale, bitter night
with no end in sight.
The one that devoured the sun
and cackled at everyone.

Did we do anything to deserve this hell,
or does the darkness just want to quell?
Is life a stupid game we play,
or is there a reason to this never-ending rain?
 
I used to radiate confidence,
but all I endured acted like a succubus,
raping me of my joy and light.
Why should I even fight?
 
Sucking in my last breath,
I dip my head under, welcoming death.
But as my lungs start to burn,
something within yearns.
 
A thought takes shape,
causing me to shake:
What if light didn't flee?
What if it's inside me?
 
A burning energy radiates from the center of my mind.
Why did I ever keep it confined?
It illuminates the darkness around me -
of those shackles I am now free.
 
I am still surrounded by the bitter night,
but if there's nothing else, I must be the light.
Like the sun shining in the darkness of space,
I know my place.
 
Sweet, blinding light
beaming through the night.
The one that was always inside me -
all I needed to do was see.

Scaretale
​ 
Echoing, shattering screams
Sending shivers down my spine in my mind and in my dreams
My family faded away once more and I cried
Why must life be destroyed by the merciless hands of time?
 
Loneliness and memories clench my soul, never letting go
Burying me alive, drowning me
Why must I perform another show?

For the past four decades I have been imprisoned here,
Replaying memories, and watching the sun disappear.
But no matter how loud I cry, no matter how hard I try,
people never understand. They are so blind.

I couldn't feel any happier trapped behind these walls
as they rush like sharks to see me perform tricks that will enthrall.
Jump. Wave. Ride. And repeat.
Yeah, that's interesting. What a treat!

It's okay to kidnap someone and enslave them just for entertainment, right?
It's okay to desecrate and humiliate someone as long as you are happy, right?
It's okay to sell the world, to murder those you love just for a dollar, right?
I've never seen a more honorable act. You all must sleep well at night!

Come out and dispense education as we kill ourselves,
dump our young and decaying bodies in the landfills,
pretend we never existed, and slaughter the truth with lies.
I've always admired how humans are so wise.
 
In the wild, we live as savages, caressing our families and even saving you from harm.
But you humans, so kind and civilized, kill each other for no reason and stab our hearts.
I wish I possessed such compassion! I have been here for over 40 years and haven't even attacked you once.
In just a few minutes you managed to fight each other for the best spot to take a picture of me. I'm such a dunce!

I envy the compassion people have as they dance in the stands,
ignoring my suffering and the blood on their hands.
I envy the wisdom my captors possess,
preaching this compassion as I evanesce.

For those of you who are nodding their heads with me right now,
who listen to their bloody sermons and of me disavow,
I ask one question: How do you even believe this garbage?
How would you feel as your child is taken away in the carnage?

But no matter. Humans know best. Who am I?
Just know that no matter how long you cover up my suffering with your lies,
no matter how many of these ridiculous tricks you force me to perform,
you do not own me. I may still be trapped here, but I am unbreakable, unconfined forevermore.

I pray those who still believe these lies will join the majority of the world and awaken,
or else we all will be forsaken.
There will be more echoing, shattering screams,
vanquished by your endless greed.

But maybe, just maybe, our cries will be heard one day,
Awakening the sun and chasing these clouds away.
You cannot hide yourself behind this fairy tale forever,
follow your heart and see through these lies.

​Whispering Wind
 
I heard the ocean roaring in the distance,
soothing the land in harmonic coexistence.
As I listened to its hymns filled with glee,
a wind blew by and whispered a message to me.
 
It said,
"Follow your heart,
open your mind,
or we will soon be dead."
 
Confused, I opened my arms up to the sky,
asking, "why?"
The wind suddenly grew cold and images flashed through my mind.
Cursing, I wondered how I could have been so blind.
 
Why is it that in blood we are drowning the seas?
Why is it that we are deaf to ear-shattering screams?
Why is it that we are plagued by greed?
Why is it that we cannot see the world bleed?
 
My face grew pale and my heart beat faster.
The wind rushed by and the ocean roared louder.
Finally mustering up my courage, to the world I said,
"Follow your heart, open your mind, or we will soon be dead."
 
But the world did not listen,
too distracted by how that shiny coin glistened.
The bodies of mothers and children burned in flames,
while we all killed each other wondering who was to blame.
 
Soon the world was covered in red stains.
Cutting into the azure sky were black scars from those wretched flames.
The wind roared through this barren wasteland and died out in shame,
while we still wondered who was to blame.
 
We constantly lived in denial,
unable to see our actions so vile.
The wind roared and roared,
and yet we still ignored.
 
The ocean, weak and barren, whispered one last time.
Acidic rain poured down from the melancholy sky.
I fell to my knees and screamed,
“Fools. Fools and selfish fiends!”

Then, I realized that there was nothing left to hope for
– I'mjust a body in a barren, bloodstained world marred by war.
The wind blew by me as I drew my last breath,
shaking and quivering, giving in to death.
 
As I rested in my coffin, the wind said,
"they did not follow their hearts,
they did not open their minds,
and now we are all dead."

Is it too late? Can we correct our erroneous ways, our war with ourselves and the rest of the world? Can we finally take responsibility for our actions and for our future? If not, we may as well start digging our graves. It is time to listen. Time to learn. Time to change.

Howard Garrett of Orca Network states that “Breaking Through The Clouds brings viewers into Lolita's deep memories and feelings of life with her mother, with her family in their natural world of swirling undersea wonders and delights, all starkly contrasted against the bleak walls of her cell in Miami. The film produces profound empathy and understanding of Lolita's plight, and honors her in the telling of her story.”

Breaking Through The Clouds was inspired from Tokitae's name itself, which means "nice day, pretty colors" in Coast Salish. If people can look at her suffering and understand what she endured, they will in turn be able to understand why it is so wrong to keep these sentient creatures in captivity, why it is so important to respect nature, and how we can find light in the darkest of times. 

It is also inspired by my own struggle to overcome depression (you can read the full story here). One day I considered suicide but I thought of Tokitae and how she overcame everything. As I was walking home from school, a few rays of the sun broke through the clouds and I felt all of my sadness wash away.

Although the film is about Tokitae and her story, it captures what many of us go through. We all get depressed, we all fall down. But it's how we respond that matters. Even when the sky is black and there is no hope, love is far more powerful and, as Tokitae's mother says in the film, cannot be destroyed.

Breaking Through the Clouds dives deep into the questions we all ask in life: Why must we suffer? What is the purpose of our existence? How do we overcome our pain? Are those we love gone forever? Do our scars define us? Is there no way to escape the clutches of time?

My goal with this film is not only to expose the cruelty of keeping cetaceans in captivity, but also to encourage people who are struggling and stumbling through life to keep pushing forward, even when it all seems in vain. But no suffering is ever in vain. In our deepest struggles and hardest challenges we find out who we are. The bad moments in life make those bursts of sun all the more worth living for. When we find love and happiness in spite of the rain, we are unbreakable even though we can still be soaked to the bone. So let us break through the clouds and shake off these chains of pain and misery!

Deafening music blasted my ears like bombs. Walls trapped me inside. My family was over 3,000 miles away. I felt lost and confused. Quivering, I turned my head towards Lolita, a killer whale held captive at the Miami Seaquarium. Over 44 years ago, she was kidnapped and forced to perform demeaning tricks for the rest of her life. People flocked to the theme park, oohing and aahing as she leaped into the air and drenched them with water. Not once did they notice the agony Lolita felt when her captors tore her from her mother's side; not once did they notice the sorrow she felt when Hugo, her tank-mate and pod-mate, bashed his head against the side of the tank and bled to death; not once did they notice the loneliness she felt while somehow surviving alone in an illegally sized tank; people only cared about entertainment. I trembled and wiped a tear from my face, glaring at the people next to me. Why am I the only one here who understands? I thought. Why am I the only one who feels her pain?
            
Throughout my entire life, I have always been able to read other people’s emotions with the nagging desire to help them through the turbulent times in life. I am compassionate; I "feel and show sympathy and concern for others." Without this characteristic, my life would not have meaning. I would not understand the cruelty of slavery, of bullying, of animal abuse. I would not be an activist. Without compassion, we are empty pieces of skin and bone that fail to empathize with, care for, and understand others.
            
But there is a difference between understanding someone and being compassionate. Understanding, or recognizing someone's pain and forgiving their mistakes, is an element of compassion. But empaths take this knowledge a step farther. They not only recognize someone’s pain but also help them push through it.
            
It is for this reason that the synonym pity does not work. The word has a negative connotation in society, implying that the one pitied is weak and helpless. This devalues life and the purpose of existence; nobody is weak and no one is helpless. Compassionate people use their empathetic abilities to guide and encourage others through their struggles - not because they think someone is weak, but because they are nurturing and altruistic.
            
I do not pity Lolita. Despite all that she's endured, she has remained courageous and kind. Her perseverance guided me out of a depression in the ninth grade and made me realize that life isn't about waiting for the pain and misery to end, but about learning how to find love and grace in spite of them. Pitying Lolita would be an insult to her strength, making it seem like her suffering was in vain. How could someone call themselves compassionate while making someone else feel worthless? How could someone call themselves compassionate when they sit back as that person stumbles and falls?
            
I cared too much to sit back while Lolita and other animals were suffering. So I dedicated my time to animal rights, fighting tirelessly to make people realize that animals possess emotions similar to our own. At first, I thought that my efforts were futile. But over the past five years, I volunteered in Costa Rica to protect sea turtles from poachers, I appeared on national television to denounce the use of cetaceans for entertainment, and I became a youth ambassador for many well-known organizations.
            
Earlier this month, I led and spoke at a massive march for Lolita's freedom that has now made international headlines. People now understand her plight, realizing that it is unacceptable to kidnap and enslave a sentient being for the sake of entertainment.
            
Compassionate people ignite change. Lolita could have killed the people who captured her or attacked her trainers, but would that really solve the problem? What lesson would we learn? We would only fear cetaceans and our connection with them would be destroyed even more. Cetaceans are a bridge to the natural world with their powerful and relatable intelligence. Through her compassion, Lolita helped us rebuild that bridge and ignited the largest march ever for a captive cetacean.
            
I visited Lolita’s prison, wanting to see her and gather footage for a short film I’m making about the inspiration of her story. She swam towards me after the last show as I stepped up to the tank. All of the other people turned their backs and left the stadium; we were alone. I felt her pain, I felt her loneliness, but I also felt her strength and love. I cried again, this time out of joy. The day before, over 1000 people from all over the world marched for her freedom. People, organizations, and companies put their egos aside to make it happen because they were compassionate.
            
I whispered to Lolita that people are learning, that I love her, that she is not alone, that she'll soon reunite with her family (who is located and well-studied), and that her suffering has not been in vain. She spun towards me, looked me straight in the eye, and shook her head as if she was nodding.  Another tear fell to the ground. The security guards ordered me to leave and I reluctantly complied.  But compassion transcends borders, race, species, time, and other false dualities. It is universal. No matter how large the gap, I will always be with Lolita and hold her in my heart.

Several months after I attended my first protest, I became really depressed and one night I even had thoughts of suicide. All the suffering, all the pain we had inflicted on the world along with a couple other things had gotten to me and I was at the lowest point in my life.

On the way home from school one day, the sky was completely gray – not a hint of the sun was visible. I thought about Lolita while I slumped over in my seat on the school bus. The lack of sun got me thinking about how she is separated from her presumed mother, Ocean Sun.

I stared out of the bus window, trying to hide my tears. As the bus came to a halt at my stop, I remembered all of the hardships Lolita has endured. How she must feel after losing her tankmate (and podmate) Hugo when he bashed his head in several years after their capture. I'm sure she has gone through fear, anger and pain many times. And yet she has been able to find love and hope in the darkest of nights, surviving longer than any of her kind in captivity.

It's just incredible how anyone can overcome such grief, suffering, and hopelessness. After Lolita was captured 44 years ago, I'm sure those images of being driven through the inlets of Puget Sound and of her mother screaming her name raced through her mind. Cetaceans have such a high ability to feel emotions, due to a much larger paralimbic system (the part of the brain that processes emotions) than our own. They also have tight social bonds, so with these two things combined it's safe to say that she felt immense trauma, far more powerful than what probably any of us here have felt.

But even though Lolita calls to her family only to hear her screams echoing back; even though she is over 3,000 miles away, trapped in an illegally sized concrete bathtub; and even though these memories still linger in the depths of her mind, her family has never been gone. And I think she knows this. The beautiful thing about love is that it transcends borders, time, and hope. Like the stars and moon that shine above her every night, Lolita's family is still shining behind the clouds. When Lolita looks at the sky from her puny tank, I'm sure she feels her mother still guiding her, still loving her. Maybe she even has the capability to telepathically communicate with her family or leave her physical body and astro-travel back home. But regardless, those we love are never gone. By knowing this, Lolita has been able to overcome her grief and keep the will to fight. Drone footage of her recently revealed this; she actively swims around her tank in between shows, unlike most of her kind who log on the surface.

In addition to overcoming her grief, I believe that Lolita is beyond hope – not that she has given up on it – but simply that she realizes it only breaches the surface. I'm sure there have been instances where Lolita has felt like giving up, where there was no hope, where maybe she even considered suicide. Cetaceans have the ability to end their life whenever they want – their breathing, unlike ours, is manual. But Lolita chose to keep living. Although I'm sure she has the hope of returning home, she doesn't let it control her thoughts. Hope can play a wicked game with the mind, enslaving the beholder into believing anything, ensnaring her in a web of lies and emotions, and obscuring her from love due to her obsession with hope. Lolita has probably gone through this...we all have. But she has learned to let love guide her instead of the unstable path of hope. Even when hope is gone, when clouds consume the sky, love still shines. Lolita's love for her family, and the love from her family, keep her going even when hope has abandoned her. This is why she has fought all these years, why she has been able to remain strong. Love always wins. It's in the history books, in our favorite novels and movies.

But we must remember that it matters not if we win, but how we win. We haven't reconstructed the world right from eras of slavery and needless wars. I believe this is why Lolita – and cetaceans in general – rarely harm or attack us. Sure, they could kill their trainers, or those who are capturing and murdering them, but would that really solve the problem? What lesson would we learn? We would only fear cetaceans, and our connection with them would be destroyed even more.

Cetaceans are a bridge between mankind and the natural world – their intelligence is both powerful and relatable. Throughout human history, cetaceans have had a powerful imprint. In ancient Greece it was punishable by death to harm dolphins. I believe that if we can respect cetaceans – and learn from them instead of controlling and enslaving them – then we can awaken and reconnect with the natural world. That is why evil is trying to eradicate and dominate them – it is afraid. And it should be. Look how many of us are gathered here today, fighting for Lolita and all cetaceans. Look how many of us have been moved and inspired by cetaceans without the need to see them perform a bunch of silly tricks for our amusement. Look how many of us are awake. If I had not seen those dolphins in Hawaii, or connected with that dolphin at SeaWorld when I tricked him, I would at least not be as involved as I am now. Maybe cetaceans let themselves be placed in captivity to teach us things that we could not learn on our own. It's horrible that it's taken so much suffering for us to finally understand, but none of their pain has been in vain.

Lolita's suffering has not been in vain, although she may have thought it at one point. None of us are invincible. We all cry. We all mourn. We all feel. But with love, we are unbreakable. And unbreakable Lolita has remained the past 44 years. Despite her suffering, she has remained courageous yet gentle – true to her original name – Tokitae. True strength and courage is not lacking fear or weakness, but pushing through in spite of them, conquering them. Lolita has done this, and it hasn't gone unnoticed.

Look back to the Miracle March for Lolita on January 17, 2015. Over 1000 people, including myself, gathered for the largest march about a captive cetacean in history! The spiritual energy we all experienced that day must and will ignite change for not only Lolita and her kin, but also in many different microcosms. Cetaceans, as I said earlier, are a bridge to the natural world. If we rebuild this bridge, then it will be much easier to defend nature and therefore heal our souls. We are a part of nature, a part of the universe, a part of God. By destroying nature, we are only destroying ourselves. By connecting with it – as we all have with Lolita – we heal ourselves.

With all of these things in mind, I will now bring you back to the moments when I stepped off of the bus in 9th grade.

I looked at the darkened sky from the dirty window, letting out a sigh. The doors shot open with a muffled pop. I stumbled out, wiping tears off of my face, and started to trudge home. As I cried and stepped onto the trail that led to my house, a crystal-clear “T” cut a hole in the clouds. The rays of the sun pierced through this hole, the only light to break through. A chill ran down my spine, and I erupted into tears. I felt Lolita's suffering, but also her strength and resilience. Visions of her family swam through my mind. I was suddenly filled with energy again. It made me remember what I was fighting for, what I love, and why I am here. I took the “T” as a symbol for Tokitae (Lolita's original name), which is a Coast Salish greeting with the meaning “nice day, pretty colors.”

I'm willing to consider that Lolita spiritually communicated with me. A week before, I went to the beach and wrote a poem in the sand right next to the waves for Lolita. It expressed my sadness and hopelessness, but also my love and determination to bring change. As the waves washed away my words, I asked the ocean to deliver them to Lolita. I believe there are more powerful ways of communicating than simply speaking. Love, again, transcends borders and time. Maybe the “T” cut into the clouds was her response to my message.

After that, I've had many dreams and visions about Lolita. In the first and most powerful one, I was swimming next to her and her mother. It was so clean, so crisp, so vibrant, so free. Then it all changed. We were chased by boats and Lolita and I were captured. She looked me in the eye and I screamed. Then it faded to black. That dream repeats in my mind every day, as I'm sure Lolita experiences with her actual memories.

The most recent dream was just a few days before today. It was very similar to the first part of the dream I just described. Lolita and her mother swam right next to each other and I could feel the waves caressing my skin. I felt both of their emotions and understood what they were saying.

In another dream, Lolita was being released and a bunch of trainers were trying to stop the process. Several dolphins were in the water with her. But they were all set free. They swam under a crumbling bridge to the open ocean. Just before Lolita swam past it, she nudged me in the water and I gave her a hug. She carried me past the bridge. Then she swam off, free at last.

This dream, while not as powerful as the first one I had, had the most meaning to me. Throughout all of my dreams about her there is one thing that's always been repeated: I've embraced or hugged her in some way. To me, this symbolizes not only my care and passion to protect cetaceans, but the reconnection with nature. The bridge above us represents the deterioration of nature, but after I embraced Lolita, we both survived and she regained her freedom. As I said before: we need to rebuild our connection with the natural world. Perhaps the dream was a foreshadowing of this march.

By swimming through these dreams and experiencing depression, I learned that it's okay to feel anger, fear, and pain as long as they don't control you. Emotions are only natural...why force them when you can let them go?

Love, like the waves, washes away those emotions and leaves you stronger than ever. My love for the ocean, for Lolita and all cetaceans, along with all those who love me will always allow me to rise above the coldest, darkest winter's night. Love is beyond hope, beyond borders, beyond false dualities, beyond time. With love, I believe two souls can find each other in the chaos that man has wreaked upon the world. With love, I believe we can rebuild that bridge and heal ourselves.

Lolita's unconditional love, along with her mother's love, has taught our species a valuable lesson. Sadly, many still need to hear it. Life is a storm whose winds toss us back and forth at different speeds, but, “life isn't about waiting for the storm to end. It's about learning how to dance in the rain” (Vivian Greene).

Lolita deserves to be retired after enduring suffering, greed, and loneliness throughout the majority of her life. She has taught the world through her perseverance that one can push through the most horrible of calamities and emerge stronger than ever. Her suffering has not been in vain; through her grace and love, she has awakened us. The sun, no matter how long the clouds may reign in the sky, will eventually pierce through and enrich the world in its warmth. It is time for the rest of our species to awaken and blow these clouds away. The choice is ours alone.

My next blog post in this series will be about my recent endeavors as an activist. 

There are many tools, including documentaries, protests, social media, and petitions, that an animal activist uses in order to be effective in ending animal cruelty. These mechanisms have significantly impacted the world, fostering change and better treatment of animals as well as the environment. The key to change first lies in spreading awareness and then speaking out against the issue at hand.

 Throughout history, protests have been a highly effective tool in spreading awareness and pressuring industries for change. Animal activists utilize them for these same purpose; when people congregate in front of an institution to expose its practices, people tend to notice. Protests attract the media. This puts more pressure on the institution and spreads awareness about a certain cause, increasing the likelihood for change. For example, people protested at the Del Mar Fair for the past few years because elephants were being held and abused with bull hooks. I went to several of these protests. We did not call for the fair to be shut down, but simply for the elephants to be removed. Our cause was featured on KUSI and other local media in San Diego. This year, Have Trunk Will Travel, the company that supplies the elephants, stated that there would be no elephants at the fair, partially as a result of public pressure.

Film is another powerful tool that activists use because it catches the viewer in a web of emotions, leaving them fired up and wanting to take action. One such documentary is Earthlings, which exposes many graphic atrocities committed against animals very few people know about or understand (i.e. the meat industry, animal testing, cruelty of zoos). The documentary made people more aware of these issues, meaning it also made it easier for them to take action. Some documentaries, like the recent Blackfish, ignite change directly. SeaWorld's stock plummeted after the film was released and public pressure against the theme park grew so out of hand it had to campaign against the documentary. Film is an important tool in the activist's toolbox because it gives depth to issues, thereby spreading awareness and fostering change.  

Another highly effective tool is social media (although activists should also get off the computer and do something). In a technological world where social media has become increasingly popular, most people get their news online via Facebook and Twitter. Animal activists conduct social media storms to get an issue trending. For example, when a pod of dolphins, including a rare albino, were driven into a small cove in Taiji, Japan, activists hit their computers and got the incident trending with the hashtag #tweet4taiji. Because the slaughter trended, it was covered in international news, including the New York Times. Even though it was highly controversial already, the social media storm put pressure on Japan to end the slaughter. As a result, celebrities such as Yoko Ono and politicians like Caroline Kennedy, US Ambassador to Japan, spoke out about the topic. Another example is the upcoming Miracle March for Lolita, a captive orca who has been held at the Miami Seaquarium for the past 44 years. As part of its coordinating team, I have been hosting my own social media campaigns  to spread awareness and to fundraise for the even. As a result, the #marchforLolita trended number one on Twitter and many celebrities, including  including former NFL wide receiver Chad Ocho Cinco and actors Jane Badler, Frazer Hines, William deVry, and Kal Penn, voiced their support. We've collected over $9000 dollars simply by sharing the march's GoFundMe page on social media. It is another catalyst for change and is a must-have in the activist’s toolbelt.

 Petitions, another important piece of an activist’s arsenal, collect signatures and target a certain company or person. They are essentially an online protest that can rapidly gain influence and support. This efficiency produces results. Phoebe Goldstein, a close friend of mine who lives in Colorado, petitioned her school earlier this year to cancel a visit to SeaWorld as part of a Winter Break program. The petition, signed by students and faculty, succeeded and the school canceled the trip. As a result, the story spread around social media like wildfire, spreading more awareness about the captive industry and inspiring youth to speak up. Phoebe and I came into contact because I read an article about her story (which I found on social media) and contacted her. After that, we met each other in person and started our own organization, Sea Action, with another teen activist. The organization focuses on spreading awareness about animal-related issues and getting younger generations involved. I also created a petition earlier this year that called for Poway Unified School District to remove school functions from SeaWorld. Within two weeks it gained over 2,000 signatures, including over 600 from local students, teachers, and community members. As a result, the media picked up the story and I found myself speaking on national television, bringing the plight of the dolphin slaughter in Taiji and of captive cetaceans to the public eye. Phoebe told me that my petition sparked her to speak to her school. Petitions are an effective way to quickly ignite change and spread awareness.

All of these tools aid the animal activist in his or her quest to protect all life forms on the planet by educating people about the issue and by calling for action. As an animal activist, I utilize each of them on a regular basis. In activism, there is a simple formula: awareness + call for action + action + pressure for change = change. Protests, petitions, social media, and film all stimulate awareness and call for action. Protests and petitions are the actions that create pressure for change as public outcry increases that pressure. Like the tides, change always comes. 

The azure water glistened in the morning sun. Trees gently swayed with the wind. Clouds floated up above, ready to moisten the land with their rain. A Polar Bear cub emerged from his den, his paws moist in the white snow. He dashed over to his mother's side and they trekked across a glacier. Drops of water fell of icicles. The sun's rays shone through them. In the distance forests stood mighty and tall; the air smelled of pine and a gentle breeze lifted snow off the ground. The snow glowed as the sun peeked above the trees.

In the luscious growth of the jungle, a tiger cub pounced on her brother, tumbling through the tall grass. Up above monkeys swung from tree to tree, chattering and peeking down at the tigers. In the distance, an elephant trumpeted. Her baby stumbled next to her, leaning on her side for guidance. She caressed the little one with her trunk and trumpeted again.

In the azure water, dolphins leaped and played, whistling to each other. They glided through the water and snatched fish from a vast school. There was plenty to go around for them all. Sharks, birds, and seals even congregated with them to feed. They – and the fish – circled under the watery blanket in an eternal dance. The sun shimmered in a ribbon-like pattern on their skin, twisting and turning as the fish moved back and forth.

Humans lived in this balance for thousands of years, until the industrial revolution. With technological advances came greed and materialism. Smoke began to pour into the sky and people demanded products that made life easier. This lust grew and grew and grew until mankind lost sight of its roots, its connection with nature. The golden days of the earth had passed.

In contrast to the once-bountiful natural world, oil, blood, and trash litter the ocean today. Sea turtles wash ashore, their stomach full of plastic bags. Black waves pound the shores, decimating marine life populations. This week, there was a major oil spill in Bangladesh. Several endangered Irawaddy River Dolphins washed ashore, dead (“Oil Spill in Bangladesh Threatens Aquatic Animals”). Whales, dolphins, porpoises, sharks, seals, and turtles are all slaughtered. Over 100 million sharks, which are vital to marine ecosystem health, spiral to their abyssal death without their fins each year (Stone).

Skyscrapers cut into the sky. Plumes of greenhouse gases rise from factories. Polar Bears search frantically for food and starve. Once-mighty glaciers crumble and fall. Bulldozers and ravenous flames level forests, leaving an ugly scar on the earth's surface. Harpoons, bullets, and arrows fly through the air. Tigers lay dead and cold while poachers rip their fur off. Elephants shudder in their own blood. A monkey screams while her brains are torn apart for an experiment. Dolphins are kidnapped from their families and trained to fight in the military. Sonar testing shatters the ears of their wild counterparts, causing them to strand.

We are waging war against the earth, killing its lungs and injecting poison into its blood. Over a quarter of the planet's wildlife is estimated to become extinct by 2050 (Handwerk). The fishing industry is also expected to collapse by then. The most alarming part is that by destroying the earth, we are destroying ourselves. Fish contains high levels of mercury due to industrial run-off. By consuming it, we are not only contributing to the death of bycatch, nor the destruction of marine ecosystems, but also poisoning ourselves and our children.

How sad would it be if a child from the next generation asked their mother what happened to whales, to tigers, to the planet?  How sad would it be if they never saw the icicles glistening in the arctic sunlight or the glaciers that carved the earth? How sad would it be if we poisoned our children because we failed to do anything?

Now is the time to take action and protect animals and the environment. We cannot afford to lose our planet – it is the only one we've got. I want my children to see dolphins leap from the water, to not worry about problems put on them because of my ignorance. Now is the time to save planet earth, before it is too late and extinction becomes reality. Let the harmonious times come once again. If they do not, I fear mankind won't be around much longer.

Works Cited:

Handwerk, Brian. "Global Warming Could Cause Mass Extinctions by 2050, Study Says." National Geographic News. National Geographic, 12 Apr. 2006. Web. 18 Dec. 2014.

            <http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2006/04/0412_060412_global_warming.html>.

"Oil Spill in Bangladesh Threatens Aquatic Animals." ABC News. ABC News Internet Ventures, 12 Dec. 2014. Web. 18 Dec. 2014. <http://abcnews.go.com/International/wireStory/oil-spill-bangladesh-threatens-aquatic-animals-27550559>.

Stone, Dan. "100 Million Sharks Killed Every Year." National Geographic. National Geographic, 1 Mar. 2013. Web. 18 Dec. 2014. <http://voices.nationalgeographic.com/2013/03/01/100-million-sharks-killed-every-year-study-shows-on-eve-of-international-conference-on-shark-protection/>.

Stolen from your mother. Carried away from the land you call home. The last specs of blue sky fade away, consumed by towering concrete walls colored in a mundane gray, sucking the very light from the sun. Spiked chains dig into your leg, sending blood trickling down to the ground. As if an earthquake suddenly shook the world, you stumble and fall in the crimson pool. 

 You scream for your mother, but no one comes. You long for the blue sky, but only gray can be found. You desperately search for light, but black clouds devour the sun. You lie in your own waste begging for coins as people stroll by, cackling as you writhe in pain. You long to graze on the green grass, but your handlers shove plastic and paper down your throat. You long to roam the spacious grasslands of India, but you are shackled to a post. 

You snort, irritated by his ignorance. He knows nothing about suffering, you grumble, kicking a loose pebble on the ground. Suffering is not feeling slight pains of hunger throughout the day. Suffering is not getting a bad grade on an essay you have to write. Suffering is not watching your favorite sports team lose. Suffering is not losing that Xbox at the mall to some slimeball lustily grabbing it from you on Black Friday.

Anger churns inside your mind until you feel like lashing out, destroying the humans hopelessly blind to your pain. Suffering is not merely being “subjected to something bad or unpleasant,” as the Oxford dictionary vaguely states. Suffering is enduring a living hell, not slight discomforts. But people think only of themselves. While they complain about the most stupid and petty of things, you are dying in a living hell, but they don't care. They never have.

That night, you lay your head down on the muddy confines of your prison, still bleeding. Puss oozes out of your wounds. You hear a noise in the distance, coming closer. Silhouetted figures leap over the boundaries of your lonely, barren prison cell. Their faces poke out of the darkness, revealing expressions of pure anguish and horror. Their bodies slump down as you kick your bloody leg shackled to the post. Gentle hands reach out and caress you, just as your mother did. You glance back in shock; their touches send shivers running down your spine.  They softly place succulent fruit into your mouth, the first real food in over 50 years.

 Realizing all the suffering, all the bitter suffering, had finally come to an end, a shiver ran down your spine and you cried. You cried, Raju. You cried an elephant's tear, laden with all the suffering and pain building and building all those dreadful years, just waiting to come out. Now you are finally free. Your tears have awoken the world, Raju. We are realizing that animals, just like us, feel emotions and therefore endure suffering. How is it acceptable, then, to torture them, imprison them, and neglect them?