walking slowly
In the fierce sun,
mosquito humid thick
but a constant breeze coming from the vast ocean
moving through the glut of it
heavy is the blue and white micro-plastic matter
scattered amongst dead coral,
bleached
and plastic containers, a rotting black beach ball
with shells carefully and tenderly attached
making home in the toxic wasteland
— of paradise.
If this isn’t ‘paradise,’ what is?
I ask myself this as I walk my red soil stained feet
through deep sand along a wild shore,
lined by salt sweetened tree heliotrope
mixed with bushy hibiscus (hau) flowering in shades of pink,
lantana bursting with two tones of orange
like when my dad would hang them outside
where we’d have lemongrass candled dinners
on edge
the doors playing.
the wash filled with dead angry Hawai’ian ancestors
tendriling into the forest
i see myself going to the store
and buying the thing in the plastic container
like god(ddes/x) is ready to damn us at any moment
for doing this
while I am salty teared like the utterly clear blue ocean
at the fucking beauty
of this forest, the quiet paina wood leaves swaying dark
naupaka hahakai, pōhinahina, rosey white flowered ‘ūlei
the black volcanic rock
i’m here
what exactly am i witnessing
with my body
sun-streaked covered in coconut oil, lemon juice and aloe
sitting under the swaying canopy
i did this too
owning my own paradox
in awe
