I imagine you would take us with you,
perhaps rolled up in a Persian rug
or tucked in hidden pockets of your luggage
carrying white shirts, socks, and underwear.

There is no need to take us out
right away, no need to show us around.
Forget about us as you do your spine or spleen.

But when old chains begin to rattle
in your mind, or on the lips of suits
lining red carpeted hallways
that no longer seem new to you

we will be there; trade winds twisting
down the Ko'olau, fragrant fallen mangos,
nests of salt. Let us offer you respite, let us
be a toe hold in the craggy wall you climb
treading a new path to a new country.

Let us remind you of when hope
was measured in pocket change
after a long day of body surfing-
just enough for shaved ice and the bus ride home.

–Christy Passion

Talk story

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