05.05.2009 | 6:00 pmpoem for Craig Arnold
Did you thrall, being alone, one soul, under God?
Did the bamboo script songs into your skin?
Are you still alive, shivering, waiting for rescue?
Whose old ghost stole you as lover, as ransom?
All poets love you for disappearing into mist,
we all wish to end in legend...
What heat did you venture so close to?
Did she reawaken like Pele to claim you in a kiss?
Did you find your own Grace in Kuchino-erabu?
Do you know how dearly you are missed?
How many prayers lift into ether for you?
Do they circle like gulls in a cold dawn?
What rosary does your brother recite as he pulls on his boots to search for your deliverance?
We admire your quest, pray for your safety —
Brave poet, hiking straight into the mouth of wonder
Obama
01.17.2009 | 12:27 pmPrayer for Obama
"And there shall be signs in the sun,
and in the moon, and in the stars; and
upon the earth distress of nations,
with perplexity; the sea
and the waves roaring;
Men's hearts failing them
for fear, and for looking after
those things which are coming on the earth:
for the powers of heaven shall be shaken.
And then shall they see the Son of man
coming in a cloud with power & great glory."
~ Luke 21: 25-27
Akua, thank you for the sun, moon & stars ~
for birdsong, kokui nut trees, godsongs from afar ~
please bless Barack Obama, who stands alone
like one bass clef in a sea of trebles,
nagivating the trills & turns & staccatos & swings
of politics with his own noble jazz ~ a suited rebel
with Kailua-town class able to hit a true chord,
ring a country into harmony with his grace.
I am no prophet, Akua, just a girlfish suffused
in a waveswell of love for a man who rides
Babylon's rough currents like a milky~wave,
like he bodysurfed Sandy Beach, weaving
a copper needle into a sea~dress of green,
white foam like plumeria petals scattering
in his wake, or how he scattered a lei at
Halona Blowhole where his mother's ashes, too,
flew into the salt-stained wind ~ yes, I believe
in a man who releases blossoms into the air,
a man who trusts in the spiritual, the sacred,
who swims like a sienna-gold seal in a sea of sharks,
who can lead us out of tumbleweed & tombstones,
out of the desert, into a New World.
*
It's time for me to grow up & face the truth of myself.
silver miracle
12.21.2008 | 3:18 amla le.
a legendary bird mentioned in old tales in songs as a sweet singer. issil & lale. a silver miracle.
this is no legend. this is today.
a bird lays in bed with me tonight. she found her way home to me. last week, i saw her drowning in the waves off mokunui island. paddled out on a blue surfboard, sang to her, scooped her up & swam her to shore.
left her in a nest on the island. returned the next day, mother instinct beckoning. spent the day picking snails off rocks, singing to her, climbing cliffs.
3 days of hard rain. i worried. but left her wild. like me.
my heart lost & wandering, worried about my loved ones, prepared to take flight. again.
and this morning, i played a song on my guitar for the first time in days. jasmine bloomed, and i sat in the backyard making her a gift of poi, humming, when a bird comes waddling under the fence. who? yes? she comes closer.
yes.
how? the island is so far. how did she find me? is this love, is this love, is this love, is this love that i'm feeling?
travis & shanna brought us food, brian & stefan brought music. silver (lale, kailani manu) spread her wings, sat as we sang around her. life is a miracle.
love finds her way home. love finds a way. over sea. over sky. over street. over struggle. over sin. over sadness. guided by her heart's compass, flying with broken wings, hungry, tired, weak, but alive. she found her way home to me. godbless. amen.
motherearth
12.01.2008 | 2:57 pmevery day's another blessing. thank you god.
yesterday, i prayed for forgiveness & a green kokui nut seed fell from the tree in my backyard. and a white dove flew past overhead. a blessing. and i thought, motherearth. motherearth records. something i can put my faith & love in beyond myself. that will live on, after i'm gone. and grow, like a seed. yes.
bless You, and thank You for the ways you make life luminous for those around you, with everyday acts of kindness.
life is short. everyday is what we make it. let's honor our parents, love our friends, love our loved ones, and love ourselves enough to give.freely. purely. soulfully. thank you for Life!
been singing with the bluebirds in the morning. starting to understand their language. coos, whistles, purrs. it's calm again.
amen.
sarang,
issilah
god bless / bluebird
11.27.2008 | 8:49 amGodbless
november 26, 2008
"Because thine heart was tender, and thou didst humble thyself before God, when thou heardest his words against this place, and against the inhabitants thereof, and humble thyself before me, and didst rend thy clothes, and weep beofre me, I have even heard thee, also saith the Lord." Chronicles 34:37.
Godbless.
A few days ago, a tiny egg fell out of the kokui nut tree in my backyard, into my heart. Like a littlegirl, I made it a nest of yellow leaves & tiny yellow flowers, arced over with a blade of grass. Like a selfish littlegirl, a lustful harlot, I neglected my blessing. Dressed it up like a babe, but forgot to keep it warm, keep it safe in the palm of my hand. Foolish, selfish girl. Could've had a bluebird singing with me. Two bluebirds. Instead, there's only one. me.
Kumu Ohai said, don't be self(ish). Instead of me, think we. So I nursed it, cooed to it, held it in my navel, under my arms, in my palm, slept with her in my belly, listening to Pops Mohamed's birdsongs & my songs. Sang to her. Held her orange pulse in my palm. Kept me warm, sleepy, slow, gentle, calm. Hand on belly. Resting. In repose.
I pushed too hard. Broke her. Blood on my hands. Killed her song trying to make mine. Tried to fill her emptiness with honey. Bentonite clay. Put her back together again. Not the same. Never. Lost the chance to sing with my own bluebird. Lost a life.
An innocent, precious life. Blood on my hands.
I wept. I cooed.
Learned the language of mourning doves.
Blue mourning doves.
We called to each other in the listening air.
Kokui tree shivering.
Tiny birds kreekreeing.
Last night, a miracle.
Took her to the starlit beach.
Fell down. Bowed. Prayed.
Begged forgiveness.
Mercy. A sign.
Clouds loomed over sea,
heavy overhead. One
formed the shape of a heart. Briefly.
On the wind-filled walk
over, picked up a card.
Said Happy Birthday.
Death of a bluebird,
birth of my faith in God. (again).
Prayed. Knelt. in white.
Was possessed by the spirit of the bird,
arms squalking, flapping
falling face forward onto sand,
almost taking flight my body
a vessel, twitching now
as I write. Twitching like a
babybird attempting
awkward flight,
unsteady legs.
How long? Who knows.
My body a vessel.
Surrendering to God.
And the spirit of
the tiny egg in my palm,
trying to take flight.
Prayed more.
Prayed forgiveness
for taking this innocent life.
And the others I've taken
in this life as a result of my selfishness.
How many heartbreaks?
How many hurt men? How
many careless, selfish, thoughtless deeds
as a result of my own lust, or desire, or greed? Jesus,
Jah, Khosi, Amakhosi, Hananim abuji,
please forgive me.
And kneeling, I made a promise
not to say an unkind word
to anyone from now on,
or about anyone.
And I said for
a sign. And
heard, wait.
And saw,
right there,
a streak of gold
star shower
down from
the sky
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
gold starshower.
cascade of goldlight.
like a gold rain.
one line of gold-star-rain.
blessed. godbless.
Today, this morning, sang a mourning song with the birds. Chastised. frantic. upset. shrill. they spread word. gossiped. spoke to me, heard my lament. my heartbroken coos. saw me collapsed yesterday. today they gathered & shrilled & watched, or sat, shunning me, backs towards me, while i prepared a circle of leaves around the baby. One darted angrily near my head. Don't blame her. Saw her parents, bluebirds, watching. The husband trying to mate his wife. Then he flew away. She lingered. I knelt. Bowed. Prayed. Sang. Wept. Read the bible, each passage so relevant to my life, to this death. Blew breath to try to revive her. Cooed. Heard a voice saying,
It is not meant to Be. Learn from this Loss. You are responsible to those you Love.
Jesus
Others
You.
God. Others. Self = Happiness. in service. In trusting that halabugi, the universe, God is watching every action, every deed. Undeniably. When I walk barefoot & alone, life is more holy. Sacred. Trees & wind talk to me. Each step in peace.
Patience. Joy. Peace.
Knelt again, in the darkness, tonight...egg in hand.
Blue feather of her parent in my ear, as penance, as remembrance for the fact that I took their baby's life. Not an innocent. A murderer of the most innocent.
She sits here with me now. Lifeless. Her parents' bluegrey feather in my ear, as remembrance. To affirm life. To listen to other people's songs. To nurture. To cherish life. Every precious life. Every life is precious. Hush. Do God's work. Work hard. Make your ancestors proud. Make God happy.
Jesus. Others. Self. Walk in light.
Actions. Word. Deed. Speech.
Tonight, also, my arms flailed. I lept, exhausted but body attempting flight. Wings. Twitching now. Spirit of this bluebird, babybluebird forever with me now.
Yesterday. November 25, 2008. Happy Birthday issil reborn. Godbless.
Rest in peace bluebird. Babyblue.
Work for One Corea.
Sing songs to God, earth, sky, sea, birds, love.
Live humble, gentle, quiet. Like a cooing dove. Remember you are the lowliest of all. God is watching you, girl. Live this one life right.
God Bless You.
Happy Thanksgiving.
no turkey for me tomorrow. haha.
Peace,
issilah.
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