i remember the big plastic tubs that my brother and i use to bath in
on land that my father had purchased for a few cents a month.
i remember the holes in the ground that we used as toilets,
and the mosquito nets, and thin futons on raised wooden pallets.
the water rice, food stamps,
and thick tarp tents.
when life grabs you by your knees, sucks all the cartilage from the ends of your long bones, and pulls you down,
always get back up.
even in my dreams, i see those feet, the same feet filled with nails and elemental calcium.
i remember he use to tell us stories about the Hawaiian chanting.
i heard them once,
three Native Hawaiian men along with three beautiful white female horses.
...some things in life aren't meant to be understood
no matter how wise we think we are.
there are some things beyond our control,
like our last breaths.