MEDITATIONS

Hoʻoponopono Invocation

I turn inward, 
into the stone bowl of my heart 
where your voice echoes still.

I love you not as possession,


rather as the rain loves the mountain without clinging,

endlessly returning.

Let my breath be a canoe.


Let it carry us back 
to the shore
 where nothing was ever broken


only waiting 
to be remembered.

I love you As the wind loves the cliff,


without needing to hold,
 yet always arriving.

I love you 
because we are never truly apart – because love is the first and final language.

I’m sorry for the shadow I cast across your light,


for the silence that fell like ash 
where song once lived.

I’m sorry for the ways I have forgotten, 
for the sharpness I carried in my tongue,


for turning away when you needed me.

I’m sorry 
for the echoes of pain I did not understand

for what was mine to tend but left untended.

Please forgive me, 
not as one who begs,


rather, as one who awakens 
to the ripple of consequence in every tide.

Please forgive me for my part in the fracture,


Spoken or silent, 
Known or unknown.

Please forgive me not because I deserve,
 but because I remember


that we are woven of the same rain.

Thank you 
for holding the thread 
even as it frayed,


for the sky’s quiet patience
 when we forgot how to pray.

Thank you for your patience as the tide returns,

for the lessons carried in silence, for still being here.

Thank you for the breath between us,


for every seed of peace planted in storm.

Let this forgiveness ripple out beyond us


to the bones of the land,


to those who came before,


to those yet to come.


Let what has been made right 
be carried unto eternity.