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