When I of Fish Eat When I of fish eat; when, with knife and fork, I break the tender segments of flesh within my plate I feel the pulling back. Strong I feel it; Pulling me back to my forefathers, To shores not yet trodden by white men. It is, then, not a mere eating of the flesh, A delighting in the sensual taste. It is, for me, more than this: it is a revelation. The sea surges before me, washing upon long shores; Heaving against jagged rocks; as it did of old. And this sea holds more than just its beauty, Its aboundingness. It is something sacred; It is like a parent to me. For think I then That the sea was my forefathers' very existence. Fishermen were they. From the sea came their very life. This then is what it is when, with knife and fork I lift a morsel of fish to my mouth. rowley habib