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Spring 2012 Writing Contest Winner:
THE BREAKWATER by Tom Dirsa
As I step onto the breakwater, I take a deep breath of air filled with salt from the sea. The craggy granite rocks
form a pathway to the sea. In the distance, the breakwater meets the golden sands of the Cape’s tip. Wind
filled sailboats and fishing draggers scurry back and forth from the deep blue of the ocean to the shelter of the
turquoise bay. Two majestic white lighthouses stand guard to the entrance of the bay. The sky is blue with wisps
of clouds and shrieking seagulls hover just above me.
The air and the sounds of the gulls remind me of a time when my friends and I spent an afternoon at the breakwater
hunting sand sharks, a time when the massive granite rocks had gaps and allowed the sea to enter the nearby
salt marshes.
At high tide silvery herring and baby blues found the openings and swam into the salt marshes only to become
trapped as the tide receded. Sleek gray sand sharks followed the younger fish, moving into the swirling cloud of
fish, and fed.
I stand at the edge of the breakwater, as the water laps at my feet, and I become a harpooner of old. Instead
of hunting whales, I hunt sand sharks. As the sharks follow the flashing schools of fish, I aim just behind their dorsal
fin and let fly. The shark thrashes about, flinging salt water before I am able to flip him onto the rocks. The salt water
is refreshing on my tanned face, but stings my eyes. Squadrons of squawking seagulls descend to feed. The hunters
have become meals for seabirds and their fledglings.
One day I arrived to see an ambulance taking away one of the younger boys. Normally, he tagged along with me
and my friends. Tired of waiting, he started to hunt on his own. However, what he believed was a dorsal fin was in
fact a tail fin. In the thick cloud of fish, he didn’t notice how close his foot was to the shark’s tail fin. That was the end
of us ever hunting sharks again.
That winter, the engineers returned to repair the breakwater. Sharks could no longer enter the marshes during high tide.
Walking the mile and a half long rocky path, along with the other summer tourists at Provincetown, I visit Cape Cod’s
tip and take pictures of the beautiful lighthouses that still guard the entrance to the bay. I again watch the boats
moving back and forth from the ocean to the bay. Seagulls continue hovering, searching for food for their young. In
my mind’s eye, I travel back fifty years and, I see a group of boys providing seagulls morsels of salty shark while hunting
for whales.
Congratulations Tom Dirsa!
ENTER YOUR WRITING
STORIES ESSAYS POEMS ARTICLES about the ocean, related to the ocean.
The WINNER will be PUBLISHED in OCEAN Magazine Fall 2012 and here –– check back!
Write from the heart. Write from the soul. Write deeply with candor and strength. Use your words well.
Deadline: July 1, 2012
YOUR SUBMISSION:
Immediately following your WRITING SUBMISSION, you will be prompted to pay your $5.00 SUBMISSION FEE.
Your writing will not be read until this fee is submitted.
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