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Iwas parked at the Kapi'olani Community College farmer's market, of all places, and my mind kept flashing back to the words I had heard two weeks before, from a speech given in 1871. I sat in my minivan, looking up toward the mountains. A warm June wind blew through my window. Manuokudanced around the tops of the trees. To my right, the dark blue of the ocean moved imperceptibly below the lighter blue of the sky. I knew that I was seeing ea all around me. For Hawaiians, ea means a number of different things: rising, life, breath, sovereignty.
In the speech, reprinted in the August 12, 1871, issue of Ka Nupepa Kuokoa, a man named David Kahalemaile talks about the importance of ea, describing it as something vital that we cannot live without.
Ke ea o ka i'a, he wai.
Ke ea o ke kanaka, he makani.
Ke ea o ka honua, he kanaka.
Ke ea o ka moku, he hoeuli.
'O ke ea o ko Hawai'i Pae 'Aina,
'o ia noka noho aupuni 'ana.
The ea of fish is water.
The ea of the person is wind.
The ea of the earth is the person.
The ea of the ship is the steering paddle.
And the ea of the Hawaiian Islands is our
independent governance.
With those words in mind, relayed by my friend Noelani Goodyear-Ka'opua to a group of us who had come together to learn about the Hawaiian Kingdom holiday La Ho'iho'i Ea, I was moved to write this poem. I had never written a poem before, but I had been assisting another friend, Lyz Soto, and the team of four women (three high schoolers and one college freshman) she was coaching for the Brave New Voices International Youth Poetry Slam Festival, and being around these smart, generous, courageous, and hilarious women had kindled a strong desire in me to write. But like most creative impulses I have had, I mostly put it out of my mind. The more I was around inspiring people in the community, however, the more I realized I was drawing ea from them, getting breath to speak. It had taken years for me to realize this, but this loud voice of mine had been given to...