King August of Mokil Speaks
Over the starlit open sea we come
in canoes of white and blue to Ponape.
We mark Polaris’ height with upright thumb:
the only guide we need to keep the sea-way.
Mokil to Ponape is many miles;
but our craft are agile and as swift as gulls
who wing at will among these happy isles;
we’ve wider sails than most, and keen-carved hulls.
Outriggers skim from crest to white-lipped crest
and lift in speed on moonward flowing swells.
Throughout the night the mothering wind holds west;
at morning light we hear the mission bells
and sight, far off, the Sokhes sentry rock
arising from the sea’s sun-misted breath,
pandanus foresting his gibbous back
and silhouetted palms about his chest.
He’s lord upon the wide Pacific blue
that lays eternal siege to him, and roars
with furious foam on reefs deployed below,
then crawls to lick his mangrove-rooted shores.
The mission wall is crumbling under vines.
Good Father Costigan waits by the gate.
We come to have his blessing, tell our sins,
and hear how God’s love conquers, soon or late.
I come to pray for seven hundred souls
who call me king: Maria, queen of all,
protect my people; save our fragile atoll
when typhoons rage and atom fires fall.
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| Mokilese-English |
Land Ownership in Micronesia by Mwoakilloa on Scribd
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poaroapwa lel...
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