I looked down at my hands a landscape of boulders, rivers and trees.
I flew to the Pacific Ocean and scrubbed it with kelp.
I swam in the sea of Japan letting the salt penetrate but it was in the cold Baltic Sea that
the rocks dislodged, the roots shriveled and the rivers dissolved.
For my soul was drifting on the Benguela stream all along. As it floated past the Namib it called out my name.
