by Giulio Rocca
The Mokes beckon to me in the early morning light. Even as I step onto the sand, I hear my grandmother’s voice: “Their proper name is Nā Mokulua, keiki,” she says. “Moku Nui and Moku Iki.” Continue reading
by Giulio Rocca
The Mokes beckon to me in the early morning light. Even as I step onto the sand, I hear my grandmother’s voice: “Their proper name is Nā Mokulua, keiki,” she says. “Moku Nui and Moku Iki.” Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 