By Marike Stucky
In the beginning, little ones,
Sky Woman dreamt of white blossoms plucked by darkness.
She was ripe with child and
The Tree of Life ripped from the threshold
between water and sky,
a cavernous void.
Delicate fingers clutched at earth, at seedlings
She tumbled into the abyss, hair streaming behind; black river.
Creatures of flight
cradled the poor girl in their great wings
laid her gently upon the shell of Grandmother Turtle
black river kissing the mosaic clean.