my own mother was Pele
in spite of the stories told by our white grandmothers
she learned her dances
I cannot say I got my passion from the mother she was supposed to be
perhaps from the one she wasn't supposed to be
but really it is more like Pele was one of our hidden ancestors
(so many of women’s ancestors are hidden)
we women are Pele
her sweet wild memory runs in our blood
often in spite of ourselves
who we were told to be
she is one of our most honored ancestors
creator of the lands that burst from the sea
passion itself
rising from the center of the earth
inseparable from own molten core
How do we hold this heat?
How to flow in the flame without being burned?
How do we know ourselves as the flame itself?
—Lorena Wolfman
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