Native Tongue

Your chant
commands the room.
My heart swells,
a witness to your power.
Your ancestor’s spirit’s soar through you
on native wings,
above the clouds of Mauna Kea
and Kilauea, watching Madame Pele’s
unyielding river of fire and smoke.
They hover on the lookout on top of the caldera, then
plunge into the heart of the park
searching for the elepaio,
nene goose and particularly the
‘oma’o, as it revives the forest with its loud song.