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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #2157550
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
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.

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.


The poem roughly is composed in the shape of the statues to Pele.
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