The warring seas clash with
the rough blackened coast
forever trying to reclaim
what Pele had previously seized
with Her steam and incandescent rock.
The land appears barren,
caught between the ongoing battle and
the impossibly high cliffs previously
scarred by Her precipitous charges.
Yet those of old scraped a life here,
pulling fish struggling from the sea and
coaxing ʻuala from precious little soil
nursed within basalt cradles.
I look to the haze rising from Her fortress.
New campaigns are imminent and
more territory will be forcibly taken.
Once the field of destruction blooms anew
the stories of old will be sung again
upon lands created for
those long yet to come.