Creation Myth –Un-visited
I too would run, like the tiger,
from the dank cave
in my half-hearted quest to become
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.