(To My Father)
I hear him saying,
"My child, through praying
The waters of the sea of doubt
Will part to let you safely through;
Your soul will hear the silent shout
Of April crying,
'There is no dying,
For death is but life's messenger.'
I weave this lei of hope for you
To ever wear." Though tears may blur
My eyes, his weaving
Illumes my grieving.
