These waves have seen Rome’s rise and
earlier even, before Darwin’s timeline
or the Lord’s living breath
knew our name.

These waves know nothing of ownership,
whether one or another claims them
or draws boundaries between,
as if they can write on air, on water, on earth.

Above the sea, this sky has seen
fish stand on
two legs and speak
words that screamed and loved.

This sky has seen all pass away
with God-poked holes in its dome,
spaces like doors in a spider web,
opening into paradise.

This sky knows not our name nor cares;
it carries no word or gift
except to let this earth wrap itself
in atmosphere.

Sea and sky know too well
what exists
between your ocean’s lips
and my shore’s soft cheek,
between your sky’s holy silence
and my earth’s revolutions:

an oath that we will continue
with nothing
but quiet recognition
and lookings-on,

on and on.

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