My lucid green waves
my lamenting seabirds
my salt on your tongue
my sand in your eyes
my star-branded body
my withering fog-breath
my wind in your hair
you long for the shore.
My yearning is two hundred miles long
but my need is ever-strong
we are the threads weaving the skeletal woods
and broken mountains.
Abandon your scrapers of sky, cities are thieves of the 
soul
rebels that burn with blue fire, listen—
Cascadia calls.
We are many
We are one
We are melodies
We are song
We wept like brothers, fought as sisters
broke like ice and died like glaciers
we yearned like forests starved by summer
we wept like sisters and fought as brothers.
Return to me, my beautiful-one
my waters and my lover
my salt on your tongue
my waves in your hair
my wind and my sand
return to me soon, so we can be one.
My yearning is two hundred miles long
but my need is ever-strong
we are the threads weaving the skeletal woods
and broken mountains.
I wish the mountain-crawling mist
to be your silver breath
this place is not you, my love
but I may never come home.
Your grit beneath every stone
river and sky your cerulean skin
for you are my love, my love
but at battle's end this land will be my home.
My yearning is two hundred miles long
but my need is ever-strong
we are the threads weaving the skeletal woods
and broken mountains
the threadbare fens
and ragged meadows
Long live Cascadia.
Long live this fight.