Jade Noelani 🏳️‍🌈
LightNews LightNews
banner
kaleleiki.bsky.social
Jade Noelani 🏳️‍🌈
@kaleleiki.bsky.social
59 followers 62 following 35 posts
They/them
Kānaka

This is where I come to vent. If you want the nice version of me find me on other platforms.

Free Palestine, Free Congo, Free Sudan, Free Hawaiʻi, and free us all from US Imperialism ✊🏽
Posts Replies Media Videos
kaleleiki.bsky.social
In elementary my parents took me out of school. I learned to be a good wife/mother, how to convert non-believers, debunk evolution, and pray for a Christian nation.
But even at 10 I knew this shit was wrong & fought back.

It’s terrifying and deeply triggering to be back here at a national level.
February 8, 2025 at 4:10 AM
kaleleiki.bsky.social
I’m not a poet by any means, academia has largely beat creative writing out of me; but I wanted to try something different.

#community #hope #resistence #kanaka #poetry #rage
A poem in white text in a black background. A thin squiggly line runs down the page. The poem reads: “I open my heart I open my soul To turn my rage into seeds Seeds of hope Seeds of love Seeds of change I plant my seeds water them with tears And wait but they don’t grow People tell me to try harder To feed the malnourished soil with my blood So I open a vein And then another And another Until I am dry” Poem continues in next picture. A poem in white text in a black background. A thin squiggly line continues down the page,becoming more erratic. The poem continues: “They tell me to be kinder To feed the malnourished soil with my body So I bury my corpse In the cold hard earth To decompose Until only my bones remain They tell me to be quiet To feed the soil with the very mana my Kāpuna have stored in my bones They want me to break open my bones? They want me to surrender my mana? They want me to give my life? For what? The rage begins to flood” Poem continues on next image A poem in white text in a black background. A thin squiggly line has become a jumble of messy scribbles. The poem continues: “Am I supposed to die here? Broken and alone For a soil that won’t grow hope Grow love Grow change? The rage is rising and I cannot breathe Maybe… Maybe it is not me? Not the seeds Not the rage That is the problem Perhaps it is the soil? A farmer knows that good soil is alive. Teeming with bacteria, fungi, and insects All working together to help fragile seeds grow I think I see the sun?” The poem continues in the next image A poem in white text in a black background. A scribbled lines become one and straighten out, leading to a line drawing of wild flowers. The poem reads: “Before my last drop of blood falls Before my body fully erodes Before I break my bones Perhaps I can find others To fill this soil with life Where are they? I reach my arms deep into the dirt and search and search For companions in this fight To bring the soil alive Please let me find them, I need them Together We can turn rage into seeds And seeds into hope And hope into love And love into change” The poem has ended.
February 4, 2025 at 6:34 PM