Maybe Noah
After the rain stopped
and the water receded
drove his big boat onto the land
that was there all along.
And the dry world started once again
Back on solid land
he returned to the cares and the caring of the world
gardening, house building
livestock
but for a while
for 40 days and 40 nights
there he was on the big splash
the deep water
that covered the earth
at the tiller of a clunky hand made boat
that steered like a bathtub full of monkeys two by two and such
with
no direction home
nothing but sky and wind and water and stars and moon and sun and life was
simple
perfect
nothing to do but ride the big waves
feed the hungry animals
sing lullabies
to the sleeping geese
the sleeping tigers
all the sleeping creatures
it was perfect
in its own way
perfect
When Noah sang.
This is a poetic piece. Not sure where it came from. it jumped out one day when it was raining on prickley pear. Part of it must be from Wind, Sand and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry who (whom?) I love so much. One of the missing things from the flood story was all the other people and birds and snakes and animals that got drowned. At some point maybe I'll write about it from the view of one of the wrens or squirrels or nuns or pilgrims or small farmers or pregnant women that were washed away in the great flood while tending their gardens or painting cave walls or squirlling nuts away. of course the flood story could be myth and no one was drowned in its telling. Just like nobody drowns in my writing. Ever. For real.
current work
acrylic on paper
