All of us are interconnected.
There are no boundary lines
separating Pacific from Arctic
the tremor of their waves, the Atlantic, the Indian.
Do not think that the Aegean or Erie are distinct
when precipitation from their currents rises in mother clouds to rotate
over continents we pretend are separated by something more than wars and canals and money
but that isn’t enough to make-believe that we are so very different
separated by space and creed and nomenclature
no, that isn’t hardly believable at all.
None of us remains untouched by the hurricane winds that caressed us as autumn breezes
shouldering in a chassis of slate nimbus
to saturate the gardens that we eat from.
All of us have tasted the savor on our tongue, the salt in our perspiration, migrating to the ocean
where some have said we started.
But do not be so narrow-minded; we are the ocean.
When I look at you, I am looking at my brother
Dear sister, don’t think that we are strangers.
And who is my brother?
We will see the constellations
our bodies return to the same soil
I drink the same water that you drink
drawn from springs stretching back to the world’s only ocean.
