A poem and tribute to my Nana Lilly Murdoch Sokimi. After nearly six years, we’ve fulfilled her wish, laying her ashes to rest on her island home, a place I knew only through her stories but have now walked myself #kuria #kiribati

💕
For you my beloved Nana you are cherished ❤️🌴

I miss you so much, but my heart knows you’re at peace and no longer at fuss

You’re laid to rest on Kuria, the island you love. Home with your beloved ones, safe in the stars above.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

I sit on the beach, the sand warms beneath me. Your tales of old times dance in the waves of the sea

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

I wish you were here, right by my side,
But I feel you watching, with love as my guide.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

Riding on the back of a motorbike, wind in my face, I see you in the land, in every sacred place.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

The coconut trees sway gently, I’ll never forget whispering your tales you told me as a child oh how I fret.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

I walk on the beach where the sand holds your steps and I hear your laughter, your glories in depths.

I miss you Nana but I know you are here
Kuria, your home, your land holds you now, in its warm, endless way.

In the heart of this island, where families join you by your side and love will never fade away .

You are home, my dearest Nana, you are home, my heart aches to say, forever here and my heart you will always stay.

From Fiji to Kuria we have reached the shores, May you Rest in eternal peace my dearest Nana on this sacred island of yours.

You and me alone
Madness of world locked away
Peace and quiet reigns

Un an de când am trăit
Fiecare pas într-un loc îndreptat
De unde nu te-ai mai mișcat
Și cățelușii, doar eu i-am plimbat

Un an de când nu ne-ai poftit
La masă, in memoria ta intristat
Acum eu la alții am dat
Și de băut, și de mâncat

Un an de când nu ne-am zâmbit
Multă lume m-a îmbrațișat
Numele tău se ivi menționat
Și tu nu, în mod repetat

Un an de când ai murit

Sleep is a short death,
Beside your bed we sat, patiently waiting for you to open your eyes,
This time the night was so long and you never came back,

In Loving Memory of Annconcillia Bonareri Kombo.
Beside your bed we sat, in silence and prayer,
Hoping for flickers, for breath, for a stare.
The minutes crawled slowly, the darkness too deep,
But you stayed still, in your quiet sleep.

We whispered your name, we begged, we cried,
Held onto hope as the hours passed by.
But this time, Mama, you didn’t fight
You slipped away softly into the night.

No final word, no parting sigh,
Just heavy air and one last goodbye.
The dawn came cold, but your warmth remained,
In stories and memories your soul engraved.

So rest, dear Mama, in skies so wide
We carry your love on the other side.
And though you never turned back to see,
A part of you still walks with me.

Originally  written by Micko.
April.2025.©️
All rights reserved.

Have we not learned our lesson about disturbing the dead?
If it's over, let it be over.
Don't dip a blade in the dusts of doom,
Then slice it through the soft flesh of peace.
We've claimed our victory,
You shant start this battle up again.

By the good grace of the gods, those who have dared to taint my face with a welt, shall receive divine punishment - and not by those who are deemed mighty high above or the denounced who dwell at a plane below mantle and core. But by me, solely me, without maledictions or the intangible, me. Smote by my might. I am not a dictator, nor a man filled with ill-intent, though my words will be carved upon stone and actions dignified in blood. For me to be assaulted in such a haphazardly manner. As a conclusion to you actions know that death is your prometheus, death to your people, death to your land, death to your cattle. My violence exceeds the confines of your cranium, in a similar fashion my anguish extends across the lands; it will agonisingly, crucifying in arduity, mundane if it has to chase and chastise you to the proverbial end of the world. So, to whatever omnipotence you pray to (or do not), it is futile, you will be reprimanded and dealt with promptly, death to all those you love, death to the vermin you shelter in your home by the vignette oil-lit-lamp and the capacious pillow you so pompously lay your head. -

death to you.

Life is stacking boxes,
Keeping your head on straight, Soldier -
Top of your shoulders.
Whatever Perfection is
the Average will do just great
When finally you get to that place...
The Long Haul is over.

Looking back and seeing the climb,
All the people and faces
Are just Time exposures - That's okay, Soldier.
And it's okay now, to bask in the applause,
Take the bows and be center-stage,
Dare the spotlight, stop turning the pages...
The Long Haul is over.

There are always moments
When a joke is Not the answer,
But we choose it anyway
For the craic and for the banter.
Put that change in your pocket now, Soldier
Leave the Bar and walk quietly away...
The Long Haul is over.

A pint of Guinness for a Tune,
A Poem, or a Story for the ever after?
This Life is never a journey,
This Death is not a closure, but
There are only so many hours in a day, so
No, no more stacking boxes today, Soldier...
The Long Haul is over.