In Los Angeles I heard mockingbirds
whistling in the trees, as it is said,
articulating night with songs overheard
of songbirds near the sea by the hills,
near the coming and going of the sea.
And so it was with my ancestors
walking through the sea, as it is said,
light from the troubled sky once more
to reveal the seabirds crying out,
to show the waves of seawater roll.
And so to that which would have sufficed:
the mockingbirds once again at my ear
singing the sorrows of bondage
and of our sudden departure, as it is said.
Pierce me like dolphins pierce the wine-dark sea.