The Pacific Highways

Pacific lands where navigators have tread

with their proas and their boats.

Their paths which were a diaspora of

ancient lands. A sea-state filled with coconut trees and abundant with fish

with natural immunity to disease through their natural, organic medicines

and the grainy sand beneath your feet.

Where they swim in their lagoons,

their waterfalls and current tides

with their latte and huts made of palm.

The water running through dark; golden brown tanned skin.

They were once Gods.

They were the ones who navigated the lagoons; the oceans.

Their feet nestled in the sea as they traced and traveled the sea’s highways and broke them into navy blue roads.

They have been Gods.

Gods who were abundant.

Forget the NAVY blue roads.

Forget your concrete jungles.

Become Gods.

Again.

Where your tattoos charted maps of the currents.

Where the tides were on your arms.

Where Pacific Ocean Highways were built

through the current.