i carry my grandfather's
broken heart with me,
his hopes and dreams
realized and lost.

i have sewn my grandmother's
disappointments to my sleeve,
a flair of lace and sorrow,
quilted debonair.

I wield the father's attention,
a span of no great measure,
a weapon of mass distraction,
a net for butterflies chased.

The islands of fire in ceremony,
a festival of misgivings,
i offer up these baubles,
the trinkets, memories from a prince.

The belly of the earth rumbles,
a distant lands' shockwave,
beckoning a rider,
calling for a king.

King Kuameamea rises,
he paddles to ruin:
the crest of the tsunami
mastered, subjugated foolishly.