by Liz Prato
Bombs exploded seven miles away. Seven miles looked like a lot less at night, when the only thing between me and the bombs was a dark ribbon of ocean. The flares were like giant Roman Candles streaking into the indigo sky. Sometimes the sonic booms rattled the windows on Maui, and once an unexploded bomb landed in the Maui mayor’s cow pasture. The dark ribbon of ocean protecting me from the assault was the ʻAlalākeiki Channel, the waterway separating the southwestern coast of Maui from the island of Kaho‘olawe. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 