cherocomingoflight

Coming Of Light

High on the stone arch
I wakened to the cold, the dark, and fear,
And others around me, moaning and shivering.
The brush of fur,
Of feathers, scales, and hardened shell
Against my skin
Made me know
That I was naked to the wind.

I cried out.
Someone answered, and I knew
I am one who cries and who is answered.
There were voices and jostling and movement,
And, almost before I knew,
I was shoved over the edge,
Scrambling down a rope,
Overrun by faster climbers.
Landing, far below, in the mud,
I drank my thirst away,
and, crouched in the mud beside the waters,
I called again,

And heard the sounds of someone,
Pushing, shoving, crawling toward me,
And another, more.
Muddy fingers, trembling, touched my face
As I touched all their faces, weeping.
We formed a circle, arms around each other,
And were warm.
I learned to smile, to laugh then. This is who I am.
Around us, fish found the water, birds their wings.
One especially, a giant of his kind,

Flying low, fanning the mud,
Struck it and scraped it,
Piling it higher and higher.
And some of us crept to the heights.
Something calling to us
To live on high ground.
Yet we were still unsatisfied,
Cold, fearful of the dark,

Though not knowing anything else,
Still, as we knelt together on the height,
Thinking of an opposite to darkness,
Strange powers came forth among us
As we longed for an end to the dark.
It was amazing:
A ball of light burst forth.
How did this come to be? We did not know.

Perhaps our need made us strong. Perhaps it was not we who made it. It appeared, that is all we knew, And light was everywhere, Light and heat.
The creatures began to cry in pain: It burned, it burned.
There was no escape, no rest in sleep; It burned through closed eyelids. And we, on the height in our circle, Willed it higher, desperately.
Higher it went; our wills-
Or something answering our pleas- Throwing it higher, and again higher, seven time. And made it move,
Across the stone arch of the sky, And down, bringing the darkness, once again. We waited, for a voice on the wind told us Light would return.
Long it seemed we endured, until that dawn. Light slowly spreading across the sky.
The beautiful mountains rising, row on row, Waters washing silver on the shore, Bird-people floating in the air, fish in the waters, And, one by one, Each being finding out who he was, His name and powers.
Jean Starr,
Eastern Cherokee



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