Kalaupapa

how many feet

have walked along this trail

for years and years

and years before

hiking shoes and boots

how many mules

have stepped on these stones

carying the weight of history

how many tears have fallen

remains a mystery

but we taste the salt

on these cliffs

as the winds shift

and the clouds lift

and it is a gift

to breathe this air

to see clearly

and stare

a thousand miles

out to sea

as thousands of eyes

have stared

from this peninsula

longing to be free,

and thousands before that

for generations

and generations ,

branches pruned

from a family tree

fishermen and farmers

displaced by brothers and sisters

discarded by fear,

and a teardrop falls

from the sky

and another

and another

and the heavens still cry

for the dead.

 

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel.
This entry was posted in farming, fishing, hawaii, human rights, poem, Poetry, rain, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.