Song of creation

Who made the world, my child?
Father made the rain
silver and forever.
Mother’s hand drew riverbeds and hollowed seas,
drew riverbeds and hollowed seas
to bring the rain home.

Father bridled winds, my child,
to keep the world new.
Mother clashed
fire free from stone
and breathed it strong and dancing,
and breathed it strong and dancing
the color of her hair.

He armed the thunderclouds
rolled out of heaven;
Her fingers flickered
hummingbirds
weaving the delicate white snow,
weaving the delicate white snow
a waterfall of flowers.

And if you live long, my child,
you'll see snow burst
from thunderclouds
and lightning in the snow;
listen to Mother and Father laughing,
listen to Mother and Father laughing
behind the locked door.

Gedicht: "Song of creation" 
door Linda Sillitoe, uit: “Dialogue”, winter 1979