Rest

It wasn't very big. Her arms dangled over the top of the Log barely reaching the tops of the rock of waves, she had enough strength to hold on. They watched, not far below, but far enough to give the ocean time to balance her. Soft songs pulsed through the waves toward her.

"Float for awhile, float for awhile," they sang. They were a family, and had been for millions of memories, millions of years of memories. Between the rise and fall of the sounds that became song, The Family folded the floating woman in wrapping her tired body with 'ike.

"She will need the possibility. So lost does she feel right now. But, no never mind, nothing goes away for ever. Float for awhile, float for awhile." Koholanui was the Ancient One, ceaselessly generous her brain equal to the size of her heart.

When The Family had sung their newly growing song through the passage of noon bright sun to near set, a question came. "Why this one?" asked one of the young ones. "Can you feel something about her that drew us here?" Curiosity was honorable, and even whales have a learning curve.


This is the first of the 'Ole po. Mid-afternoon on 'Ole Kukahi to be specific. The medicine of story comes ... I take a small dose of it. I write. I rest. I float for awhile.