Ancestors Silenced by The Red, White, and Blue


A speck of light hits my eyes as the clouds are pushed aside by the sun’s rays.

Machinery crushes the Hawaiian way.

Cries of our ancestors rain down upon me hitting my face.

New technology sets the new pace.

I walk around Haleakala feeling my faith…rising and rising.

My figure tips shake.

The wind picks up.

I close my eyes.

I inhale and my chant begins:


E hō mai (i) ka ʻike mai luna mai ē

ʻO nā mea huna noʻeau o nā mele ē

E hō mai, e hō mai, e hō mai ē (a)


Give forth knowledge from above

 Every little bit of wisdom contained in song

 Give forth, give forth, oh give forth


As I keep repeating,

The wind picks up quickly swirling and twirling around me.

I open my eyes

Mauna Kea is peering through the clouds, standing erect on the horizon

I listen to the wind, but all I hear is machinery screams.

Sacred land once home to my ancestors, respectful and true,

Are now desecrated by the red, white, and blue.


Guide that inspired this poem: 


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