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 After the cloud embankments,
the lamentation of wind
and the starry descent into time,
we came to the flashing waters and shaded our eyes
from the glare.
Alone with the shore and the harbor, the stems of the cocoanut trees, the fronds of silence and hushed music, we cried for the new revelation and waited for miracles to rise.
Where elements touch and merge, where shadows swoon like outcasts on the sand and the tried moment waits, its courage gone-- there were we in latitudes where storms are born.

Poem by Arna Bontemps
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