da hawaiian supah man
come, come inside. i like talk story.
dis da story of hawaiian supah man.
long time ago, back before da haole
man went sail da ships to da ʻāina,
had one little keiki, one small baby
name israel kamakawiwoʻole.
da elders found him deep inside
waipiʻo valley. he was being nursed
by da puaʻa, da wild pig.
da elders was in awe of da manini
baby, how he talk wit da geckos
unda da seven mile waterfall
called hiʻilawe. da elders knew
keiki israel had plenny mana,
plenny spiritual power; cuz when
he would cry, all da animals in da valley
would come gather round the little
keiki. had: pueo– da hawaiian owl,
wild horses, plenny mongoose,
ʻio– da hawaiian hawk, blue winged
japanee pheasant, puaʻa, billy goat,
da nightingale donkey & anykine
other animals would gather round
da baby. da ting about little israel
is dat even when he go cry li’dat,
da most nani, most beatific song
would come from his keiki mouth.
da elders sat under da ohia lehua tree
& listened to da baby sing to da ʻāina.
for one day, two days, tree days,
four days da elders was mesmerized
by da keiki. afta israel’s four day song,
da elders take’m from da back of da valley
& move him to da village
at da mouth of lalakea, da stream.
***
plenny time went pass & israel
grew for be one strong young kane.
da elders voted him da chief of da village
cuz he had plenny kuleana– you know,
leading trew example cuz was
his responsibility, eh, for take care
all da kamaʻāina, all da people
of da valley.
***
life in da valley was cherry.
all da people stay inspired by israel,
dey all working together
for get ready for da makahiki,
da winter harvest,
culminating in one big feast, one luau,
in honor for da god of prosperity, Lono.
all da kamaʻāina stay planting
all da seeds for da island fruit,
feeding all da animals,
drying out all da onolicious fish,
like da salty ʻōpelu.
da villagers was all doing their kuleana,
you know, like, da young keiki
giving maikaʻi to da old people, li’dat.
***
one night, one old lady, da most makule
wahine, oldest & wisest of da village
woke up israel, middle of da night kine.
she tell him she had one vision,
she go tell him, “da obake, da ghost,
da ghost, israel, it told me:
Lono goin’ curse all us.”
***
da next day, all da plants: make die dead.
***
life in da village was all jam up.
da kamaʻāina was in panic,
everybody asking israel what for do.
what for do. what for do, israel.
israel he go tell all his people, “no worries
i goin’ talk with Lono.”
so, israel set off on one journey
to da back of da valley.
back to where he came from.
all da time,
israel singing, “e ala ē, e ala ē,”
israel singing, “rise up my people.”
as israel sang, da pueo, da wild horses,
da mongoose, da blue winged pheasant,
da puaʻa, da ʻio, da billy goat
& da nightingale donkey
all went gather behind him, following him
to da seven mile waterfall
where da kamaʻāina found him
plenny years before time.
as israel when reach hiʻilawe, he call out:
“Lono take my song, take me & give
my people da green of da ʻāina.
den he walked into da pond,
into da waterfall, singing,
“ua mau ke ea o ka ʻāina i ka pono!”
into da waterfall, singing,
“the life of the land is perpetuated in righteousness!”
his song was heard in da village & dey knew.
dey knew their chief wasn’t goin’ come back.
dey knew he went perform da ultimate kuleana.
& da guava grew & da taro grew
& da waiwi & da breadfruit grew
& da lychee grew & da kamaʻāina still sing
da song of israel kamakawiwoʻole
da hawaiian supah man.
tourists wouldn’t understand
i use da middle fingah
fo’ track da dent of your opu
slight & hunehune
your silhouette like mountain fog
making one almost opaque blanket
for mauna loa: morning dress.
da moon making you look like canoe
fruit, da sag of your breasts: mountain apples.
no wonder da polynesians went trow you
into da canoe.
come, we go.
nobody goin’ miss us. u & i.
we can dig one puka insai mauna loa
or swim to kauaʻi on da backs of two honu:
da patterns of their shells fitting togeda
like an Escher called: us.
nah, nah: jus’ joke.
i only like stay insai dis moment
watching da green leak outta ya eyes
& paint da leaves
of da mac nut tree.
M.G. Martin is the author of One For None (Ink). A Pushcart nominee, his work has appeared or is forthcoming in ZYZZYVA, Hobart, iO, Word Riot, PANK, and from Greying Ghost Press, among others. M.G. recently moved to Seoul, Korea with the poet Tess Patalano.
