Kirstie spoke your final words,
abandoned, by the Weaver's stone.
Tonight, chiefs walk the road they built for you.
You cannot see the gifts they bring,
or feel rough lips against your hand;
still, you will share their silent vigil. They
will carry you, their Loving Heart,
their Tusitala, high above
Vailima to the place you wished to lie.
But will you rest under that sky,
defiant as your requiem,
or will you rise and walk the low road home?