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“The tide moves me higher on the crags. My joints crunch like the mussels and barnacles beneath my boots. I walk a tightrope, from here to another ocean huddled with archipelagos where ancestral canoes set to paddle across the world. I teeter and my hands catch the water rising cold. The sea we come from is much warmer.” — Michelle Peñaloza
The tide moves me
higher on the crags. My joints crunch
like the mussels
and barnacles beneath my boots.
I walk a tightrope,
from here to another ocean
huddled with archipelagos
where ancestral canoes
set to paddle across the world.
I teeter and my hands catch
the water rising cold.
The sea we come from is much warmer.