Dedicated to my mother Ernestine Roberts, her mother Nettie Brown, to Nettie’s mama Mama Connie, to my daughter’s Ebony and Ayodele and my granddaughter Maleyah. 

We are the ocean

etching the line that is

the shore

we are the line

we are the shore

we are the ocean

calling always raising tides

and falling to rise again

we are the ocean

the line feminine

from whence they come

we bring them forth

tend mend and grow them

into women into men

we are the ocean

etching the line that is the shore

we are

the line

we are the shore

we are the line from which

they rise and the bosoms on which they fall

we are the line of women

opening wider than ocean to bring forth

the family human to dwell upon the earth

we bring them forth

tend mend and grow them

into women into men

we are the shore

constantly calling for the ocean

remembering its embrace

before we had form or face

in  its vastness we knew

we were the dreams of God

we understood

the distance from the ocean

the strength of the line

the world of need on the shore

we are from whence they come

we bring them forth

we tend and we mend

we grow them

into women into men

we are the line feminine

both ocean and shore

we are fruit on the vine

the oceans roar

the rainbows heat

the salt in the sea

we are

as long as is

is

until is

is

is

no more

the line

the ocean

the shore.