In the spirit of all the talk of haiku (e.g., Khaliah and Adrienne), here is one I wrote today while at the beach. Mom and I lay on pareos in the sand, shivering, at Waimanalo Beach Park on this late November afternoon. It was overcast but so beautiful. Makapu'u and the rest of the northeastern coast of O'ahu are more green than when I used to live here, because of the rain of biblical proportions O'ahu has been receiving the last couple years. Considering the levels of green here against the fog of SF and the bright lights of NY makes me feel homeless.
Waimanalo Beach
Homecoming leaves me unmoored
'aina stays constant.*
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* This is why haiku is hard. Because really what I want to say is "only 'aina stays constant," only the land/feeling of the land/spirit of the land stays the same, but hey I ran out of syllables, so there you have it.
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2 comments:
thank you, thank you. 'tis greatly appreciated! :-)
it's a paradox, isn't it, that talking story is necessary to have something to write about but writing kinda kills your ability to be completely present when talk story is happening.
hope that made sense.
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