Congregants of the Sea

Dear congregants of the sea,


When did we cease coming in peace?


Was it when we grew our thumbs times two?


When did the separation begin between me and you?

"You hate me because I sleep with women."


"You hate me because you think I hate men."


"I hate you because of the color of your skin."


"I hate you because you are not my kin."

So, shall we begin again?


Crawling from the waters into our new species skin?


Let's erase all the boundaries this time.


Let's share an open fire and a bottle of wine.



Let's not take more than we need.


Let's not be the image of greed. 


Instead, let's flit from one flower to the next.


Let's collect string and build a giant nest.



Let's hatch our children from multi-colored eggs,


And watch them play while we rest our legs.


Let's sleep beneath the moon on soft beds of clay,


And dilly dally until the close of the day.



I'll bring the water. You bring the food


I'll rub your feet. You'll lift my mood.


Then, when the sun comes up, we'll do it all over again,


And begin at the beginning once again. 


What will we need just for today?


What will we need to keep the hunger at bay?


We'll take just that and nothing more,


And when night falls, we won't lock our doors.