Through younger eyes I peered
at this same map and saw
only islands,
noticed
only continental drift,
cataclysmic forces at work.

I pondered separation,
predicted certain doom,
foresaw the inevitable shift
of restless spirits in bodies of water.

Time has shifted tides and now I see
oceans connecting us,
sustaining our life.
Amniotic,
it wraps us up,
bids us to be and to become.

I breathe easier, cradled
in the hope of all that is yet
to be recorded and fixed upon
this, my life’s map of possibility.