(For Amalia, Charlene, and Grace—and the Pukengkeng Liberation Front)

It is the peak of mountains.
It is the wisdom of having
Gone to the depths
Wild and quiet
Serene and turbulent
Like earthquakes coming
Alive in the middle of an evening
That came in early
That came in late
But came just the same
Too soon in a way
But not so
As we begin this rite
Of oneing
This rite with our souls singing
Seeking solace from solitude
And now this aloneness
This sadness of mornings
With you searching for a happy name
Asking for salving, soothing
With tides coming in low
From silenced furious waves
From seas we have yet to know
In our mind as in our language
Yours too, women
Of a long long time ago
Kindred spirits all
Drawing up the plan to savor
Salvation as in a menu
The ingredients those that free
Us all from the chains
Of tall trees and valleys
Of phalluses and wombs
Of bottomless pits and the rays of suns
Possessing our shared dreams.

This is the story of us peaking
Into heights unknown to make us see
More and more of what is hidden
In our words, secretive and mysterious,
Ready for the unmasking.

In this way we can cry out
In the best voice we know how.
Some kind of a eureka,
I found it, I found it
In the to-and-fro of a war
We declare against false prophets
Of lust and lasting loves
Unto our fathers and mothers
Unto our brothers and sisters
Unto our comrades and patriots
Them who know
But do not tell us
The meaning of freedom
Without the token sounds
The freedom that shows us
The way, the one final way
To ourselves.

It is that tone and timber
That we hit upon reaching
The highest keys, falsetto
Like the wild winds
Whispering healing
Into our ears.

Magic Island, Ala Moana
Hon, HI

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