Updated: Oct 28
THY NAME SHALL NO MORE BE
by Whitney Hemsath
For John H. Groberg
They had tapa, taro, and tides,
fellowship, feasts, and faith.
But when the missionary sailed in,
they had no G, R, or B to greet him.
Kolipoki, they said.
Kolipoki he became.
Perhaps this renaming was coincidence;
nothing more than languages colliding,
breaking as naturally as waves upon the shore.
Or perhaps, like Abram, Simon, and Jacob,
he was renamed, rebirthed, reminded
that he had crossed paths with heaven
and could never be the same.