ECHOES OF DIASPORA
the place that my grandma knew,
and her mom,
and her mom’s mom too.
Dense dark forest
filled with
hidden
meanings and mist;
crowd
my dreams
when I think of this.
Longing for her misty morning kiss,
it is
Waimea
of
old
that
my heart does miss;
As time moves ever
forward
and I continue
to fade
it is
in
my mind
I travel
back and forth…
each
and
every day;
sometimes as a boy
but most times as a man.
The years do pass,
people don’t last,
as I continue
to cling
to a well worn
and
tattered dream.
What
does
it
all mean?
From the mountain
to
the
sea,
when
my
journey
is
complete;
in
Waipi’o Valley
where
I
will
sleep.
‘O Hawai’i nei,
embrace me
as
your aboriginal son
as
I
slumber
in your arms
until
that
promised day
has
come.
End.
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Black Eagle Dream 