A visual poem honoring mama moana as the keeper of ancient memories, the one who connects the Pasifika diaspora with our home islands.
The ocean knows my name
she wrote ancient stories on my soul
memories not mine riding tides
like my voyaging ancestors
In time, the ocean leads me home
not to stay, simply to show
that I belong
to coral sand and coconut trees.
When the heart aches
to be whole, to return
her waves sing comfort
catching tears to carry home
so the sand will remember me.
I ask why the ocean should know me
an abundance of life in your waters
the very depths assigned to your care
and ocean replies
I, too, am one of hers.
She reminds me
our bones are volcanic rock
salt water flowing in our veins
home and belonging
echoing inside our skin
like the sound of waves in a shell.
Is it enough for home and place
to meet in us?
People of the ocean
guided by currents of gratitude
for the gift of knowing and
being known by an ocean.
The ocean knew many names
before she knew mine
she will know many
after we are gone.
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