The Birds Are Still Flying: Ode To Kaho’olawe

They watched as it bled

blood red clouding the ocean

and asked themselves how?

They forgot that it’s alive

dying slowly as God cries

 

and green turns to brown.

Veins are nothing without blood

but tears wash away

sacredness and DNA

and the birds are still flying

 

to lands out of sight

dropping hell from the heavens

but they left their mark

here, and pockmarks conceal death

as God’s tears reveal what’s left

 

 

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.
This entry was posted in hawaii, Kaho'olawe, Molokai, poem, Poetry, tanka, Uncategorized, Vieques, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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