By Albert Wendt
Our islands are Tagaloaalagi’s stepping stones across Le Vasa Loloa
small and frail but courageous enough to bear his weight and mana
high enough to keep us above the drowning and learning
how to navigate by the stars currents and the ferocity of storms
Point and sail in any direction as long as you know
how to return home
You have to navigate the space between the borders
of your skin and the intelligence of the tongueless horizon
and learn the language of touch of signs and pain
of what isn’t and what may be in the circle of the tides
that will stretch until you understand the permanent silence
at the end of your voyage
and our islands are your anchor and launching site
for the universes that repeat and repeat
like the long waves of our ocean like Tagaloaalagi’s
compulsive scrutiny of what is to come and fear
Source: Poetry (February 2018)
More Poems about Mythology & Folklore
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Dear Colleagues, you write, for weeks
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that soaked into our clothes
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By noon we could discern their massive coils
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Here’s an Ocean Tale
My brother still bites his nails to the quick,
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So much hurt is forgotten with the horizon
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More Poems about Religion
Wake up, greet the sun, and pray.
Burn cedar, sweet grass, sage—
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Remember, when you step into the arena of your life,
For the Feral Splendor That Remains
sometimes I strain