Call Him By His Name
Baby Brother's Baby

I was living on the farm up Hamakua when my brother found out he was going to be a father. He was the first of us kids to have a child. None of us thought he would be the first, only because he, much like me, was floating in a sea of possibilities. Young, rebellious, and unlikely to follow the rules. I knew he would come around and rise up with this child. In fact, I remember feeling excited for him to reverse the perception our parents may have had of him. These verses flow between reflecting on my brother and on my own relationship at the time. I was in love and in a very curious, explorative space. How does a man treat his woman? How do I respect her? Thank the gods that she had the patience to see me through all my stumbling and shortcomings. Through the mistakes of youth, my partner at the time truly loved me “just the same.” I learned to reflect that same way with my brother. I wrote this over a period of a year or so. Dim yellow light shining through the window on the face of my beloved. Droplets of rain glistened on the sill. Those Hilo nights were thick with precipitation. Like swimming in a pool of atmosphere pressure. Gentle, but memorable. We used to drive a vegetable oil Mercedes. I can still smell it. Using less, accomplishing more. You can feel the joy in this melody. Such were the times. Life was light. Life was playful.

This was the beginning of my journey to honoring a sacred bond. I would make mistakes along the way. My imperfections were beautiful, but I had yet to see them as such. In many ways, my brother's growth was reflecting a similar journey. We'd drifted apart, but a brother's bond never breaks. The courses of your rivers may shift, but you remain water together.