What have I done?

What Have I Done?

For ten minutes we stared into the water. Adriana and I were hoping it would come up... but there were no bubbles and no waves.  There was nothing to show my running partner and me that it was still alive. I was traumatized! I had just killed a turtle. 

 

“Don’t trip over that rock!” Adriana exclaimed as we were on mile 12. Exhausted, I veered to the left, but something caught my eye; the rock moved! 

“That’s not a rock. It’s a turtle!”  Adriana and I stopped. Little did I know how the next forty minutes of my life would change me.

 

Ask any of my friends… I am a caring person. I listen when people are in need and always try to help when I can. So when I saw this turtle moving from a side street toward a busy intersection, I had to get involved.

 

I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I had to do something, especially because… “CAR!!!” As the headlights got closer and closer, instinctively I yelled, “Pick it up!” Adriana scooped up the turtle and we sprinted across the street. The car flew past us, barely missing us. 

 

As it turned out, we had to build a cage for the feisty animal. It kept trying to bite us every time it stuck out its long, red and green neck, and whenever we set it down, it ran away.  Who knew turtles could move so quickly? As a smooth, round rock completed the cage’s structure, my cross country coach ran by. “Just bring it to the pond,” he said… but I felt deep inside that maybe I should bring it to the Humane Society.  He didn’t see a poor, lonely turtle like I did. He just saw an obstacle slowing us down.  

 

At this point in my life, I believed that a sophomore in high school should blindly follow instructions… so that’s what I did. Unfortunately, the pond was recessed beneath a retention wall that, to the turtle, was nothing less than a massive cliff. We placed the turtle down to consider how to bring it to safety, but before any ideas came to us, the turtle had made its way to the edge of the cliff.

 

He looked into the distance, seeming to notice all of the water’s reflections. I could see the turtle’s tiny eyes longing for freedom. Slowly, so as not to startle our new friend, we approached it from behind before he could jump. Quiet and stealthy, tiptoeing one foot at a time we inched forward. The turtle turned his head, looking directly at us. He paused again and took a step farther. One more step and he would fall into the water. And he did. He plunged into the deep blue water. Bubbles came up, and we waited. We waited in shock. Hoping he knew how to swim, we waited for the turtle to swim back up. We were going to save him; all he needed to do was swim upward. Swim toward us, so we could reach into the gross blue water, and take him out. But he didn’t.

After thinking about this for days, I realized I needed to reconsider how I take care of those in need. I sacrificed what I knew was right (calling the Humane Society) in order to please my coaches. Maybe, just maybe, the turtle survived... there was a slim possibility. Next time, though, I will do something different. Next time I will listen to my instincts.  “Next time it will be different,” I told myself. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741