Child of Fire
 
Too long had the air now been too still,
a mass that had grown in the sea of time,
too old and too big to stay in this womb,
now outgrew all its space,
was crushed on itself
and the skin of above
green, white and blue,
shook, shuddered and split.
 
Earth spat at the sun,
crackle-laughed at the ants,
dying, fell at last
to the sea of its birth,
and they called it Krakatoa.
 
Waves passed and forgot
and the womb filled again.
Out of the time and the dust and the ashes
cold flesh rose anew
and breasted the sea to bask in the sun.
 
They call us the child of fire yet to come,
and we wait with the sun,
as the sea laps
at Anak Krakatoa.
 
Anak Krakatoa,
Child of Krakatoa.
Anak Krakatoa,
Born of Krakatoa.