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We grew up reading the ocean,
ancestral wisdom on a
consciousness of blue

we were taught to gauge depths,
to carry a conversation with
drowning; we’d all recognize
that line if we saw it.

We are a generation for whom
harbor was a starting point.
We were mentored by endlessness,
by the virtues of sandcastles,
by stories of epic battles between
brown, chiseled men and burly,
braggadocious conquistadors
fought on shores

our childhoods were winding
alamat retellings that defined
romance as a beautiful,
extraordinary creature raised by
the ordinary fishing villagefolk,
as perfect pearls farmed by
old women in scapulars to make
the gods get drunk like mortals.

Archipelagic soul,
I taste the foam along the
curves of your time-swept edges.
I am lulled by
the rhapsody of waves.

“Turtle & Diver” by photographer Julio Sanjuan


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