Kīpahulu Silence

Fog settling on Hawaiian birds, sharp and trilling between ʻokina, repeating and echoing over searching groans of wild bulls, over boars tearing up matrixes of dense forest roots with spear-edged tusks, while swollen mango, breadfruit, avocado, and jackfruit trees smack their sappy, sticky, ripping and rotting fruit into the turning soil.

A commotion, a language of odors for blooming youth, struggle, and decay. A place where the ground stays moving, coming over toes, up bodies, everywhere host to organisms. Where tangling tapestries compete to fruit lilikoi and medicines. The expression of ancient Hawaiʻi weaving into humidity and stems, resonating in places unseen, hands of spirits strumming chords, hidden in beings and places. Silence vibrating.

 

***

 

Fog settled on Hawaiian birds, sharp and trill between ʻokina, repeated and echoed over search groans of wild bulls, over boars that tore up matrixes of dense forest roots with spear-edged tusks, while swollen mango, breadfruit, avocado, and jackfruit trees smacked their sappy, sticky, ripping and rotting fruit into the turned soil.

A commotion, a language of odors for bloomed youth, struggle, and decay. A place where the ground stayed moving, came over toes, up bodies, everywhere was host to organisms. Where tangling tapestries competed to fruit lilikoi and medicines. The expression of ancient Hawaiʻi woven into humidity and stems, resonated in places unseen, hands of spirits that strummed chords, hidden in beings and places. Silence vibrated.