12 Quotes by Michelle Peñaloza

The pelicans paddlein coils of waves and light. Low tidereveals fissures of saltwater and rock.From the smallest crevicescolor insists-colonies of jadeanemones, a purple starfish harvest, barnacleshiding beaks of unbleached linen, black musselbouquets. Between the air and sea,-this, one large prayer.I kneel.

The tide moves mehigher on the crags. My joints crunchlike the mussels and barnacles beneath my boots.I walk a tightrope,from here to another oceanhuddled with archipelagoswhere ancestral canoesset to paddle across the world.I teeter and my hands catchthe water rising cold.The sea we come from is much warmer.

Our dead are lost, aren't they?There is always some mistake:lost down a well, lost in the woods.Lost for words, lost to the world,we'll never make up for lost time.The sheep, the baby, the prodigal son,wandering beyond our imaginings,along the border of our grief and need.