Song of Creation
Who made the world, my child?
Father made the rain
silver and forever.
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.
fire free from stones
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 finger flickered
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
and lightning in the snow;
listen to Mother and Father laughing,
listen to Mother and Father laughing
behind the locked door.
(Dialogue, Winter 1979)
Through a difficult growing up and all the years of trying to figure out how to be me and be a Mormon woman, this poem has sustained me, been vision enough of the destination to encourage me along the path. And it is at the very root of my conviction that poetry matters.
May her voice have long echoes.