I.
Capture the sea,
the swimming wind,
the blue and the green
a lovely stranger’s eyes, liquid
they seduce, lull, glitter.
Breathe gently into green
until they are like blue
ribs upon the water
worship the green
of thousand year old trees
of the blue deep underneath
the surface.
 

II.
The water is cold here.
Not frantic, but deep.
The landscape–
both beautiful and cruel,
veiled in sandy dust.
The great heavy bloom
of the mountains in the distance,
quite as sundown, restless
as noon. Land and sea
balanced only by the white
wall of sky in between,
for the land has lost it’s memory
of the most secret places
and the sea has always held
a silent grudge.

* uses lines from various poems of Kamau Brathwaite’s from his book “Born to Slow Horses”