A gray wing vibrates the sky
Between California and Hawaii.
Below, the ocean corrugates.
The shadows of clouds
Float the purple surface.
There are ghosts in the water
Whispering about us
As if they know who we are.
An island looms like a continent,
Its volcanic cone
Rising above the clouds.
I am almost home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem