In response to the eruption on the big island of Hawaii |
The Goddess Dances Dressed for the occasion; Madame Pele walks her red carpet in fiery gown. She who shapes the sacred lands understands she is the Queen. Goddess of Fire-- she spews her words in noxious gas, doesn't bother to ask if her people listen: she knows they will. Her will is paramount. Her actions tempered, forged deep with Her Mountain. Her hunger is voracious for she will consume all. Goddess of Volcanos, she throws her tantrums clothed in molten fireballs and her aim is true. Pele; maker of land, taker of land-- both destroyer and creator: It is Her Island, after all. Mako swims beneath fired waters where lava boils, the humpback whales got wind of her fury; headed for cooler seas. The Tiki Gods beat their drums as they sing her Anthem. Each lei tossed upon the waters a psalm for what the Goddess will create. The dancers sway in rhythm to the ancient songs that guide their day: Pele's Way. Pelehonuamea*-- Oh Sacred One-- your people have heard your cry and wept at your power even as you accept their sacrifice. The price you command, that which you demand, has been paid. Rest now, Oh Queen. Return to your cratered fortress: the world has heard your cry. Pronounced: Pay-lay-ho-new-a-may-ah The poem roughly is composed in the shape of the statues to Pele. |