Diamond Head

I’ve never known much of home

Nor how to define it…
For now the ocean is my mother.

She rocks me to sleep nightly:
Keeping me safe;
holding me ever fast to vigilance…

Teaching me that the wind does not always whisper.

That sometimes He galavants on & away to some far-distanced land…

 No omen left for us here—

        In this water desert
        On this surfaced sea
        Of moving mountaintop

In midst, this.
This is no longer harbor. No longer anchor.
And not quite home—

Only a feel somewhat foreign & all too familiar.
Where upon Hawai’I is all but a shadow amongst clouds.

 NOW

The presents are passed/past
Yet still full of gift.

-Matt Mettias