TIME MACHINE NATIVE
PART 1...
In
the semi-silent jungles of Guahan
I
come across something as incomplete in and incompatible with this world as
myself.
A
time machine.
Amidst
a sea of jungle life
It’s
waiting for something
Propped
high above the dirt on loyal latte
Fadang
fawn over
its form
Perhaps
poisonously warning all to please proceed carefully
The
nunu encircle the machine their long like limbs lacing and knotting
Wrapping
the device in a gentle almost motherly embrace
Their slingstone shaped leaves majestically scattered in sacred and certain ways.
The
trees and the plants of the halom tano’ silently sentry this
contraption
Spirits
keeping so many at bay and away
Yet
at the same time inviting some souls lost and limping lailai such as my
own
To
find solace in its creation
Tin
roofing lashed onboard with pago rope
Protecting
it from uncertain but inevitable ravages.
A dokdok
frame carved with Chamorro concern into a canoe like shape.
In
preparation for an eventual voyage
A talaya’
hangs uselessly over a halved tanke’
While
a stack of fisga fixed atop PVC poles lean against the hull
Both
poised and ready to tokcha’ or tunu whatever the past or future
has destined for its trip.
All
this near a pile of machete siha whose sheaths depict Chamorro legends
and history
And
whose handles were imported from Costa Rica, Botswana and Oklahoma
A
telephone pole palu sits atop the form
Carrying
a sail Resting quietly
Crafted
carefully with metallic and shell si’I
Woven
from a thousand dreams.
In
the imperfections of the agak weave
In
the strains of a thousand hours
In
the wishes of a thousands folds
I
see the hopes of the Chamorro people
In
controlling their future by somehow navigating their stormy past