ECHOES OF DIASPORA

‘O Kohala

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.

Yet it is

Waimea

of

old that I truly miss;

longing for that misty morning kiss,

to caress me in her gentle arms, once again.

As time moves ever

forward,

and I continue

to fade;

it is

in

my mind

that

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

is

where

I

will

sleep.

‘O Hawai’i nei,

embrace me

as

your native son

as

I

slumber

in your arms

until

that

promised day

has

come.

[ I prefer the word aboriginal rather than native, but I just like the way it flowed. End.

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