Is he a part of the water that reaches them at shore,
that space between water and land?
When they walk across the rocky bottom, dip their heads
beneath the cool surface
glide through the water
is it their father they feel?
The same water that flows around the peninsula
passes through the canals and seaway
travels, merges, consumes
a body, many bodies that submit
only to the heavens, the will of the moon
opens wide, spreads it's arms
wraps itself around each stretch of land.
Every hand will seek
pull from plunge into
the same water
each one wet with words.
Everyone, eventually, will feel their father's touch.
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