They say it started in the waters
hydrogen, oxygen,
fathers, mothers,
shallowing up and
settling near,
dirt honed by
the touch of sea
we dribble along the wettened earth
always by the oceans dear –
our skins floating on
inborn seas.
And now,
stretching inland sweeps,
does the ocean
roil and weep
to know of men who live in
Kansas or Nevada,
never hearing their mother’s voice?
Ocean Orphans
