How thirsty can i get for waves
To keep washing my feet and legs
Even when half-asleep,
Wanting the refreshing caresses to continue
How thirsty am i to seek blessings
Of the Ocean that refuses no river
Even when half-awake
Wanting the soothing cleansing to continue

When the moon rose high up that night
Causing the ocean to gasp and surge
I felt my soul reach its home
In the ocean, with the ocean.

From the distant shores i heard whispers
Of the silenced and the vanquished
Their stories forming patterns and motifs
On the surf and receding waters
How much more blood and ashes are we to wash
How much more horrors are we to bear
I hear the incessant pleading continue
Justice, will help soothe the wounds
I heard the ocean whisper deep into my aching heart
Sometimes when things go too far we have to rise and reorganize
I heard whispers from among the receding waves

Defeat is not the end
The truth is
What had happened
Was not the full-stop
It certainly is no conclusion
Just containment, a comma
The truth is
What is to happen
Will not stop either
The struggle to be treated fairly and equally
The struggle for dignity and respect
Will unleash a million creative movements
For justice and peace to reign

Lose no hope
A distant droplet spoke
Before merging with the ocean
Back on its celestial journey
To visit another people
To witness other stories,
To hear other truths...