20160416 (bounds)

Only a stage in the uninterruptible cord of creation

For most of our lives we don’t

Admit our creaturehood. Once 

Begun we assimilate memories

But the earliest are lost in a

Formless cloud we recall only

As images of this or that 

Nothing really tied together

In some reliable whole. Yet

From that mass of barely

Named cries, spoonfuls of

Baby food, mother’s warmth,

Comfortable naps the I of 

Me appears, then things really

Get rolling. There’s the rocker,

Mama and this guy. Eventually

Brothers, sisters start looking

In. Though we’re hard pressed

To name our earliest thought,

We know it’s back there mixed

Up with that mess of faces

Some soft some scruffy. Years

Later we can recognize some

Events from photographs of

Early surroundings the high

Chair, the crib, some blankets,

Maybe a doll or rattle. Pile 

The years on and we almost

Naturally forget once we’ve

Begun keeping them in order

By time, size, name. As if

We needed encouragement

They put the world in front of

Us to sense, modify, conquer.

We revel in being, so much to 

See and do. We run from the

House to the tree and back

For nothing more than the 

Thrill of cutting through the 

Air. We pick up leaves, bugs,

Worms or scream if we see

Things wriggling, insects with

Sharp feet landing on our

Soft arms. Eventually we learn

About everything we need 

To get safely through the 

Day on our own. We start

Schooling to absorb the 

Accumulation of cultural 

Knowing: music, stories,

Numbers, languages, histories

Until we’re considered competent

To keep expanding that

Knowing or at least pass it

On without distortion. For

Our efforts to help others we

Get paid what they think is fair.

We are free to mate and with 

Luck we spawn—another

Creature happens. We didn’t

Make it. Our bodies did it.

Then the creature is expelled

And we either accept it for 

Care, kill it, or force it on

Others. That’s when we learn

Of creature hood, when we

Know its undeniable beginning,

Speculate of its undeniable end.

Our brother rocks, seemingly forever

Solid, began and will end. 

We, so more soft and flexible,

So more alert and knowing,

Will share their fate.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016