Made of Fire

  I dreamt with greens that ended in sea

and seas with names that danced;

but what I saw,

were hills as jungle as they were ocean,

voices soft to the rhythm of hips

with a language that sails in the waves of the summer,

rainbows that greet each evening,

between sleeping volcanoes,

waiting between drizzles their moment of awakening

with the patience of a surfer,

they reign over the islands without wanting to claim the lead.  

I dreamt with paradise and 

I lived the reality of a people, eager to be their own.