The warm water engulfs us as we frolic in
the ocean of our ancestors.
The sand comforts my father as he watches
us shatter the rippling clear veil under the heat of
the Pacific sun.
The wind dances elegantly, and the ocean
dances with her.
The wind is graceful, smooth in motion, courtly in presence, joyful in
her mother’s song.
She caresses us with air, and comforts us
with warm companionship.
But her brother moves as a fierce
warrior,
Clapping his hands, thumping his feet on
the shore, yet
He is smooth, in his demeanor, in his
movement, in his dance.
He is the warrior that our people rode,
and she is the dancer that guided them.
We watch and hear the dance performed.
As we exit the theatre of ocean and wind,
we can still hear their mother’s song.
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