There must have been a refuge

here we are, are we not?

Blessed refuge in time of disaster,

humble land reached at rising flood.

And the power of one blade of grass!

Reverberate long, our heaving hearts,

from dreadful days of drought.

Our histories describe us all as refugees.

Our wits or prayers confirmed

fleeing flames; sidestepping storms;

here resolution is built, we are made what we are,

raised to these heights.

We disdain the human project to our shame

and at our own peril.