Tell Them
I prepared the package
for my friends in the states
First — the dangling earrings, woven
into half-moons black pearls glinting
like an eye in a storm of tight spirals
Second — the baskets
sturdy, also woven
brown cowry shells shiny
intricate mandalas shaped
by calloused fingers
Inside I write a message:
Wear these earrings
to parties classes and meetings
to the corner store the grocery store
and while riding the bus
Store jewelry, incense, copper coins
and curling letters like this one
in this basket
And when others ask you
where you got this
you tell them
They’re from the Marshall Islands
Show them where it is on a map
Tell them we are a proud people
toasted dark brown as the carved ribs
of a tree stump
Tell them we are descendants
of the finest navigators
in the world
Tell them our islands were dropped
from a basket
carried by a giant
Tell them we are the hollow hulls
of canoes as fast as the wind
slicing through the pacific sea
We are wood shavings
and drying pandanus leaves
and sticky bwiros at kemems
Tell them we are sweet harmonies
of grandmothers mothers aunties sisters —
songs late into night
Tell them we are whispered prayers
the breath of God
a crown of fuchsia flowers encircling
Aunty Mary’s white sea foam hair
Tell them we are styrofoam cups of koolaid red
waiting patiently for the ilomij
We are papaya golden sunsets bleeding
into a glittering open sea
We are skies uncluttered
majestic in their sweeping landscape
We are the ocean
terrifying and regal in its power
Tell them we are dusty rubber slippers swiped
from concrete doorsteps
We are the ripped seams and the broken
door handles of taxis
We are sweaty hands shaking
another sweaty hand in heat
Tell them we are days and nights hotter
than anything you can imagine
We are little girls with braids
cartwheeling beneath the rain
We are shards of broken beer bottles
burrowed beneath fine white sand
We are children flinging
like rubber bands
across a road clogged with chugging cars
Tell them
we only have one road
And after all this
tell them about the water — how we have seen it rising
flooding across our cemeteries
gushing over the sea walls
and crashing against our homes
Tell them what it’s like
to see the entire ocean__level__ with the land
Tell them
we are afraid
Tell them we don’t know
of the politics
or the science
but tell them we see
what is in our own backyard
Tell them that some of us
are old fishermen who believe that God
made us a promise
Tell them some of us
are a little bit more skeptical
But most importantly you tell them
we don’t want to leave
we’ve never wanted to leave
and that we
are nothing
without our islands.