In The Sky

I.

Helicopters buzz

alongside lush-green sea cliffs

through sacred valleys

and over farmland, cutting

through peace and quiet, cutting

 

through silence like knives

chop, chop, chop, a reminder

of missionaries

sharpening their blades, chopping

the islands like venison

 

taking everything

from the backstraps to the scraps

while overthrowing

Lili’uokalani

with the help of the Marines.

 

Ospreys bring to mind

scenes from Apocalypse Now,

somehow we forget

that they still train for something

looking down from the heavens

 

at people farming

just like in Afghanistan

for seventeen years,

farmers just trying to eat

people just trying to live.

 

II.

Then there’s the tourists

with Hawaiian Tropic tans

in choppers buzzing

too close to the ground, looking

at life below, not seeing

 

that the sounds they make

slice away all that remains

of serenity

in a matter of seconds.

Do you think you want seconds?

 

This venison is

just too damn good to be true

and the dirt is red

and the Pacific is blue

but white lies are in the sky

 

clouding history

and more than a century

of occupation

calling Hawaii a state,

not a kingdom or nation.

 

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 work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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