Kaʻū Mele: A Hundred Years Ago

By John Harn

Sugar Mill Road ran through here
somewhere under this meadow
but there’s no sign of it now.

For almost a century it gave itself over
to the mercy of foremen
who never quite crushed enough cane to extract
the fortune they promised investors.

It knew flooded ruts
punishing sun and overburdened trucks
oil spills and diesel exhaust.

It shared the foremen’s quota-load
and the staggering thirst of the immigrant crews
swinging machetes for wages.
It knew silence, anger, singing and laughter
but when the cane-money left
Hawai'i for Cuba
the road and the workers were simply let go.

The cosmos adds but doesn’t subtract.
A ruin here means a burgeoning there.
For each cut bloom, two grow back.
Everything, from nothing, multiplies.

Walking the shoulder
of the road that replaced it
the looking brought me here
never mind the finding.