Migration - unfinished

We sank timber in the water
To build bridges we could walk on.
Though we could not see the far shore
We stepped out to cross the water.
as the salt wind stung our faces
we forgot where we had come from.
When we stopped to sleep, our nights
were filled with waves' persistent lapping
at the bridge as it grew weathered.
And we learned to sing like sirens
calling out to be remembered.
We looked down into the waters
which protected their own secrets
We looked up into the heavens
which were maddeningly open.
when we tried to fathom either
we imagined we were drowning
And ran forward, our feet sounding
On the boards like distant thunder.
When we reach our destination
we will cling to it like children
to the bosom of their mother.
we will live as we were meant to,
We will start our lives anew there,
With the story of our travels
To remind our sons and daughters.
In the highest of the mountains
We will carve our aspirations -
only there - all other places
we will leave as we first find them
but the highest of the mountains
we will carve with every poem
till our many words have ground it
down to stones, down to a valley.
then we'll sift among the pebbles
for the words that best describe us
And we'll carry those, and with them
lay down in the fields and forests
to await the final trumpet...