In the presence of our kupuna,
a supernatural meeting
is not out of the question.
Every day I check social media,
there is another accident.
Another fatality.
Sometimes several.
Someone crossed the center line.
Someone was texting.
Someone had a few too many.
Someone was in a hurry.
Down by the ocean here in Kohala,
on this magnificent coastline,
I find rubbish scattered along the road.
Beer bottles.
Styrofoam clamshell boxes.
The usual castoffs.
I shake my head, yet again.
My husband doesn’t miss a beat.
“You drink, you don’t think.”
Simple enough.
But I would apply that same logic
to cell phones.
To the driver who cannot wait
until the next turnout.
To the texter convinced
that even death
will pause for a reply.
What is it we are rushing toward?
Surely there are things worth waiting for.
A sunset.
A conversation.
The long road home.
The child not yet born
who would probably prefer
that both parents arrive safely.
In the presence of our kupuna,
perhaps the supernatural meeting
is not with the dead at all.
Perhaps it is the sudden appearance
of common sense.