I Come From Waters (inspired by Hoʻoipo DeCambra’s I Come From a Place)

I come from
clorox bottle diving markers
Hawaiian slings
waiting by the pakini
for the wind to shift
the tide to change
black cloth tabis
the clasps rusting
rips in the side for sand
to rub blisters on my baby toe.

I come from
tako slow boiling on the stove with beer
the afternoon heat heavy with yeast
akule drying in the fish box
on top of the old, broken wheelbarrow
fish scales glistening on the grass
like confetti – thin, sticky petals,
opalescent armor- evidence of a battle hard-fought
papio tails nailed along the garage walls
dates and names written in Uncle’s clear print,
our own trophy case.

I come from the mud flats of Kaunakakai
where patches of seaweed can only be harvested
by those who know how to feel the limu
by touch
delicately snip the precious ogo
leaving the roots still on the rocks.

I come from the whale songs of Lahaina,
sandy bottoms where nabeta
search for the elusive
crabs and shrimp
large, black coral beds
where deep sea divers harvest
our version of diamonds and pearls.

I carry the ‘ike of waters
once familiar, now changed.
I carry the eyes of my grandfathers
who could see the mullet from the surface
point out the flash of their momona bodies
as they nibble on limu,
and follow the moon to the solitary ulua.

I carry the hands of my grandmothers
to harvest the opihi, pipipi, a’ama, namako, opae,
scrape and dry the precious salt
whip for the pan-sized papio
hand pole for the summer oama
and return the red fan of lungs
purple guts and an occasional head
to feed the greedy puhi.

Kaiao Garden – Boys & Girls Club of Hilo

So much depends on
the sun -
crisp heat of morning
buffered by calm tradewinds
heat opening up the pores of my skin
crystalline beads of sweat
glow on the surface
of my arms
my koko, my blood
courses to the surface
absorbs the UV rays
brown baby
my freckles pop, pop, pop
expand and join – a happy reunion

the nasubi bush in front of me
reaches green fingers to greet her hiapo
follow his path across father sky
with adoration and envy
nasubi ripening in the canopied shade of leaves
deep purple shadows
a violet egg hiding spongy white meat,
tiny brown seeds like freckles
hidden.
So much depends on
wai -
waiwai – wealth held in fresh water
life source, gift
and like magic, it comes in with
the breeze, teasing temptress
green nasubi leaves cup their hands
skyward to catch the precious wai
as the mo’o waits, sleepy
in the morning light.
So much depends on
the sassy brown hen
that weaves her way through the garden
scratching and clawing the tender dirt
stomping between the bushes
in and out of the hot house
past the black dog, slow and cocky
unafraid of canine hunger
she sways her hips, looking only forward
eh, tita! Goddess of precious manure,
queen of Kaiao.

Things I’ve Lost in the Mist

One red scarf, a little tattered,

but warm, smelling like sunshine.

Two dogs, disobedient and muddy

they run into the lehua trees

only the swish of their tails waving goodbye.

Countless neon orange ribbons

tied in sight of each other

made especially for the lead scientist,

too long in the office,

he’s forgotten his way through the forest.

Your song that the sneaky wind carries into my window,

just an echo of a familiar tune,

the words lost in the olapa tree, I strain my ears to focus in

and then the mist sweeps through the forest

and quiet falls like a blanket.

2/19/09 CKI