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I stand on the rocky shore,
my long black hair whipped by wind,
staring out at the white waves
and the deep clear green water.
The waves lash against the rocks,
splashing salt spray on my face.
I taste its salty tang.
I wade out into the waves,
past sea urchin skeletons
and the pale pink shells of conchs.
I feel the surging waters
rushing over my fingers.
Almost I see the First Ones
rising from the salty womb,
dancing past the tidal pools,
climbing the craggy cliffs
to the sea grapes on the hill.
