There are no right angles
in these hills, no parallel lines
in the mossy limbs
of the ancient forest.
Why do we draw borders
to pierce and divide
this sacred tribal soil?
As if rivers are not enough,
as if mountains and valleys,
the blush of fractal change 
from prairie to high sage,

the golden explosion
of alluvial marsh lilies,
are not boundary enough
for a real country…
Yet for all our nations,
we inhale the same air,
drink one water,
coalesce the breathless
dust in one body
with eight billion colors.
At night we touch
the same stars, at rest
in one silence,
drift back gently,
laden with the same dreams
into one ocean
of blood.
Collage of my words by Rashani Réa.
Chalk mandala by Caryn Babaian, Academy
of Natural Sciences,
Drexel University.