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This poem was written in June 2026. A reflection on the state of our Island nations.

The mid-day sun reminds

us when we walk on

pavements,

our shadow follows us.

To face our shadow,

is to turn our back

to the sun,

curious to what it

reflects and

open to what

remains.

To remain is to remember

our shadow’s desire to

devour ourselves into

extinction.

To remain is to remember

when the sun’s ray

hits the ocean floor,

there are no walls

to mirror.

To remain is to reflect

the times we’re in,

when the sovereign

between

peace and ocean

is islanded by

armed forces.

A campsite to wrestle

the ‘little boy’ with

‘fat man’ pockets.

And here we are—

in the slow cooker,

sliced between

heat and fire.

When our children ask

about sewing new cloth

in old garments,

lead them back

to the ray.

Tell them everything,

from the hungry

pots (/ports)

to the dying

pans (/pens).

To remember is to remain

immovable —

a little chaos in the rain,

a little calm in the deep.

And if the gun ever asks

what we took,

tell them,

we took back what

we are —

salt and water