Were her voice
the medicine of Silence
would stop at the sand on which it breaks,
the drum of night unable to find its way
from heartbeat past her lips..
Our shore is one and the same,
the Ocean
our origin and return…
For the ears attuned
the music will be heard,
again and again
dancing bodies will join,,
The rugged journey along coastline and mountain ridge
for naught.
From formless to form
we are instrument.
Standing on peak and cliff,
we are moved.