The sand is blowing under sky.
Can one be homesick of the sea?
I feel the grains inside my lungs
and every ancestor with me
is holding hands behind my back.
I feel their old eyes in my neck.
We walk the tide line just once more.
I never felt land was my home,
I am not meant to be ashore.
The waves as always seem to call.
The ancestors have seen it all
and tell me it is better so
to live on land and not at sea.
My guess is that it’s what they know,
they’ve witnessed so much in their lives.
The sailing men, their sailing wives,
the storms they knew when all seemed lost,
the bitter struggle to maintain,
to be at sea at such high cost.
I walk back home leaving the waves.