Day 602:

when we were young
we leaned to show our backs to the mountains
were told stories of young boys and girls who were swept out to sea
for not watching properly
for not giving their chest to the kanalano
i used to imagine myself
walking along the reef and being stuck
my head
sliced by the rough rock
how the blood would pool and dilute with the salt
and i would be taken by the ocean
i used to imagine
how i would be angry
how i knew i would have been watching the rave proper
like i had been told
i knew i would not be caught on my heels
when the whitewash rolled in
there is something about the injustice of weakness that angers me
how the ocean
no matter how infinitely wise
can sweep over my body
leave me to be blood on the reef like candy for the tigersharks