In the Beginning

Depending on the tradition, you hear: There was nothing, or there was chaos. No time, no space, not even a single atom Not a ray of light, a whisper, No scent of papaya or rivers. Not a body, not a soul. Not a ghost of a dok champa Or even a memory Of a touch in the darkness, Or a taste of a home-cooked meal from A tiny garden in the window Of a dreaming woman Asleep amid her books and clothes, Her brushes and tools. In the beginning, though, there Was no hate, no war, no anger, No constant return to life after life Because of our ignorance and lusts. Still, I look back with no regrets At our world of fires and love, of ice and hope. My mouth opens in song In the brief time upon Earth I have, Creating amid destruction. Growing against silence.