He slowly straightens,
bag filled with empty cans,
left by careless passerby and tourists.
This was his spot.
He’d counted each grain of sand,
Had been humbled by those waves
On more occasions than he could remember.
He’d been coming to this beach
before Hawaii 5.0
or Magnum P.I.
or when the buildings started blocking the sunrise.
And he took care.
This was his ‘aina.
Where he dove for tako
Where the ancestors had walked the land and
he’d taught his children how to live
with respect and care.
What they did rippled through life
like waves through the ocean,
He looked around at his place,
checking for cigarette butts
He nodded in satisfaction and shuffled home.
This month for #1000Speak for Compassion we’re talking about Love. And I thought about this. Love isn’t always romantic. Or even friendship. I wanted to talk about this man’s love for his environment, this land that felt as much a part of him as his family. If you’re interested in joining, write something about love and post a link.
I’m also participating in OctPoWriMo this month, so this will go for both of these wonderful projects today.