Connected by the Great Divide
By Lucia Westin

I perch at the edge of this Rock,

scanning the horizon

of the boundless sea.

For miles and miles

this plain of water glistens,

only disturbed by the scarce movement

of what lies below,

or what dares to threaten its tranquility,

above.

I look upon that land,

on the other side of the silver plain.

I see another girl,

looking across at me.

It is only the plain that connects us,

yet it is the same plain that

pulls us apart.
We wait

and watch the sea.

The girl sends out a small, wooden boat.

It grows larger and larger

as it sails closer and closer,

filled with children

she cannot feed.

I hear their moans,

their prayers,

their cries.

My land is needed.

And I see the children's faces

weak,

hungry,

yet hoping for hope.

Hoping for some food

That they may live

And one day too have children.

I see that faces onboard alight.

Looking across the horizon

At my land,

And my fish.

I give what I can provide,

yet it is a struggle to survive,

living off this silver plain,

never knowing

if the silver tongues will leap up

pulling our people away,

one by one.

Across again.

I see her eyes smiling

through her tears

over the ones our ocean took for ever

for its own.

And I see in her eyes,

The same passion I have

And I stare out upon

this boundless sea.

For miles and miles

this plain of water glistens,

only disturbed by the scarce movement

of what lies below,

or what dares to threaten its tranquility,

above.

I look upon that emerald land,

on the other side of this silver plain.

I see that other girl,

Looking across at me.

It was only the plain that has connected us,

yet it is the same plain

still pulling us apart.

I

                                            Last updated: September 9, 2008