Creation Myth –Un-visited

I too would run, like the tiger,

from the dank cave

in my half-hearted quest to become

(more) human.

So the bear stayed;

ate only garlic for one hundred days,

his reward, being turned into a woman,

giving birth to a child

who would later become

King of the Land of Ever

Diminishing Light; God

of the Desperately Spiralling Mountains.

Like the tiger I wouldn’t last even a day.

Let the sandalwood tree

wave sacred branches;

let the Chancellors

of Wind, Rain and Clouds shake

their long hair and frown.

In the dank cave, maybe

my animal heart would re-configure

its parts for the change .

Miles away, from the stomping sky,

the crops that failed,

and the woman lamenting

a second-born who’s just a cub;

in dangerous striped undergrowth

daggered by shadows and sun.