A long story

So, as they used to say,

The sons of the Early One

Made the sea and the sky –

Why

No one knew,

And, with the hint of a smile,

By the night’s melody,

They made even all the winds that ran, playing,

Along the shore.

But after a long while,

Things needed a shuffle – a toss or a turn,

So, they brought about a long churn

Of the sea – and the rain

Fell, then all curled up

Like the crinkles of a leaf in the fall,

And the Wakeful One closed both His eyes

And slept and will waken again one day

To a whippoorwill’s call,

Or the pinyon jays’ cries,

But the most ancient Holy One, beyond the beginning,

Is always, in the sleeping and the awakening,

Within and beyond the day and the night

Of Evermore.

After a while though, when no one was looking

The dragon of yore

Crept

Up onto the earth and arose again,

He who believed in nothing at all,

And stalked the whole land –

Shredding

And tearing,

Causing hurt and howling too

With a horrible hiss,

Over the smoking sea,

Scattering the sand,

Until he tumbled into the dark Abyss,

And fell down, down

And then soon

After, there was peace

For the startled curlew,

So, all the big ones and the little ones and the long sea, rolling

All closed their eyes and slept

In the comfort, deep blue,

Of the dark for a while,

Till stars sailed adrift in the ever-wandering skies,

Over the lake of the softly singing, glad-winged geese,

In their feathered gown,

While the gold cup

Of the moon

Went sailing on in her cloud-ringed light

Along the bright rim of the brave sky.

**

By Sharon St Joan

© Copyright, Sharon St Joan, 2022