Moving Water

To hide in the ʻehu of someone else’s love 

Overflowing over me

I wonder: Is it the same

As hiding from the salt I have inside of me

as refusing to feel my own 

burning sea

A question to ask yourself every morning: 

Given the chance

What kind of kai would you be?

Would you be the open 

Moana?

The ripping tide?

The dark and deep blue 

so blue it has its own name?

Would you be the calm,

Mālie? 

The quiet, 

malino? 

The daring rough,

koʻo?

Would you be always moving moving moving 

Chasing the horizon

Or would you 

Stay here

Stick to the walls of this cliff called fear 

Forever