For some reason, it is far easier for me to write to a prompt than just sit down & ‘write.’ I have friends who are just the opposite: one told me yesterday that he found the entire NaPoWriMo site intimidating. And he’s a multi-degreed professional, and a helluva writer!
This particular prompt just drew the words out of me. Who knows why some prompts are like magnets to the words inside? Or maybe…maybe there really is a muse, and some prompts speak her language…
Today’s prompt was:
I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a creation myth. It doesn’t have to be an existing creation myth, or even recount how all of creation came to be. It could be, for example, your own take on the creation of ball-point pens, or the discovery of knitting. Your myth can be as big or small as you would like, as serious or silly as you make it.
Here’s my response. And don’t forget: these are all written in one attempt, no time to revise! Just a typical writer caveat…
The coming of Tree
The earth, grasshopper, was flat.
I know: it is round, too.
But to us then, it was flat.
The sweet grass unrolled
Before us into the blue
Horizon. It was forever.
But the birds grew tired
Of nests too close to fox
And the squirrels too
Were not content
With green hills
Something, they told Sky,
Is missing.
And so Sky rained.
Rained gold & silver drops
Puddles of molten gilt
And then Lightening came:
Struck the green earth
Again & again & again
So that the green hill split
And opened wide arms
Cradling something amazing
Something with soft greygreen hair
And a graceful brown body
And sturdy feet that held
To the black dirt beneath the grass
Tree said Sky. This is Tree.
Fox watched as the birds
Claimed nesting spots
In the enormous arms
Of Tree. Squirrels leapt
From the ground onto Tree’s
Rough skin, climbing as high
As birds. And Sky & Tree
Smiled, honeyed sunlight
And cool shade.
And that is how it was.
Tea and Breath 