Sailing

The ship is the plow

We cut our course through stars

Reflecting upon ocean floors.

We steady ourselves in the crow’s nest

Hand in hand,

Seeing how far we can sail

Before this old ship gives way beneath us.

We all return to Mother

Become food for the seas, birds, bees,

But we are the plow

And we cut our course

Leaving behind rows of trees

In rich soil made from you and me.

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