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LATITUDES, 2ND EDITION
​Poetry

​HAU'POLILA HANAU IA KUME KEALA CHING MOUNTAIN ROAD SCENIC POINT
'UHALOA
by  Michael Foley

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HAUʻOLI LĀ HĀNAU IĀ KUMU KEALA CHING


This year began like 19 others at ‘Alula 
waist deep tearing strips of kī like green
threads undone from the best or the worst
of our lives lived in two worlds you’re
there on the edge of the reef chanting
we’d gathered earlier on the shoreline
with our rainwater chanting he ulu o
luna the call for growth you gave us
a call so simple I can repeat it now
six months into this long pause this
collective withdrawing from touch
and gathering this retreat that’s given
us clear oceans and skies for the first
time in generations is this the gift you
keep asking us to know in order to give?
this is the day the world received you
someone who listens someone in whom
the trust is mended and the grip held
on these islands loosened turned
inside out elemental stories awoken
retold you’re not afraid to tell them
to compose songs chants dances
with a smile and pass them on
no one turned away life death and
every human endeavor in between
worth blessing you bless give
permission to embrace above
below night day sight desire
power e ola! I see thousands
of strangers wait for you to open
their festival in Kailua-Kona
hundreds move like a wave
across the dance floor in Zurich
for your hula see small gatherings
of kupuna follow you into the water
and move their hips share their laughter
Kohala’s own kupuna hula kumu rediscover
her mother’s voice through you my own
world seemed to fall apart and I came
to you instinctively only to hear you say
I’d know what to do and you were right
tonight I will raise my glass to you
grateful to come across your path
grateful for your extended hand

​Listen ------------>
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        MOUNTAIN ROAD, SCENIC POINT

Up on the mountain road where clouds are born
riding on the heat of the land my windshield’s
wet a respite from long dry days thirsty trying
too hard it’s a time of listening because Mauna Kea’s
hidden Mauna Loa invisible Hualālai a mystery
this dance traces from memory the coastline
penetrates the mist with a thought dressed up 
as fingertips that’s how it is sometimes 
telling a story about a world we can’t see 
we turn to coordinates recorded on the pages 
of that inner atlas so what if the audience 
chatters downhill through the quiet verses 
18 wheelers decompressing through the music 
just another challenge for your sense of perfection 
is that what this tightness in the throat and chest 
is all about pulling over to let the eyes 
follow the slopes all the way to Kawaihae 
a ghost in sunlight but up here cigarette butts 
tell their own story people stopped for 
all kinds of reasons surprised perhaps 
by the cool air the silence between engines 
ascending descending that curve cut 
through the slope not much to see 
today we hear them say with only
the foreground in view lovers’ voices
tumble through like resurrected streams
after a rain arguments surrender to reason
taking the foot off the gas putting it in park
sandwiches sodas dregs emptied on the side
feet dangling onto the ground tripping
over the high curb on the way to the narrow
verge of dense soft carpeted grass how
many minutes out of the car drawn to the light
of vista and panorama like little moths
but on a day like this looking down 
at their feet turning back to their rentals
on the move again why do I think if I stay
longer say the rest of my life I’ll see these
clouds grow up raise kids of their own
​
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                         ʻUHALOA


Under the flight path our eyes touch
the bellies of aircraft descend like gods
like the futility of the way things are
in this pandemic we know the seats
above us are empty as we sit here
earthbound across from each other
on the edge of Wawaloli shoreline
celebrating your birthday on a picnic
table laden with patina of countless
other meetings how the usual
is now forbidden in these early days
of social distancing isolation self-
quarantine to prevent the spread
of the virus neither one of us
wear the requisite mask or gloves
but we don’t kiss cheeks or hug
that much is given up for the cause
of this silent revolution and any
silences we might have filled
between us before now fall
like weightless feathers something
to look at as it catches the light
for once just being here at Wawaloli
is enough the rest can’t be explained
refuses analysis it is enough
you liked how small are the leaves
of the maile lei it’s enough
you brought me ʻuhaloa leaves
harvested for tea and also the oil
you made and food in case
I hadn’t eaten and frozen shots
more than enough for a birthday
you wanted to meet for sunrise
on the mountain but the roads
are closed against gathering
where will the crisis end we risk
coming here two friends sharing
a moment outside in the open
for me the greater risk is stepping
into the distance inside
it’s the magnetic pull
that brought me here
keeps bringing me and yet
it’s a longing I don’t recognize
something so very old
and new at the same time
it’s this that scares me 
on the way to our cars 
you point out ʻuhaloa
growing wild in the verge

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  • NewHome
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  • Gallery
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  • Literary Review
    • LitReview First Edition
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    • LitReview Fifth Edition
  • Austin FF