for we know not

I dreamt last night of the world made new

winging backward through time

to black uncultivated soil.

out of this womblike earth a woman

arose naked and uncorrupted,

the mother of us all

...

filled with wonder, she did not speak

for words were not yet invented

instead, she touched every green thing

growing from the rich loam

communing with every wandering animal

and whistling to each bird on the wing

...

till time spinning through millennia

her tender gestures stored in muscle

and flesh adding flourish to modern language

our hands waving with forgotten meaning

our smiles, coos and laughter

born from her wordless experience of awe.

...

did her children moan when disappointed

or pout when feeling sad,

wipe tears from their lover's faces

or hold their hands,

press lips and rub noses when happy

or keen when they were dead?

...

does our DNA hold the secret

when it knits us within the womb,

what thoughts do we think

in our mother's life-giving cocoon,

what dreams dreamed

or fears feared at the gateway to the world?

...

what wisdom do we surrender

at birth and after

that our preverbal ancestors knew,

what wordless imagery sacrificed

to the god of articulated thought,

what primeval lessons unlearned?

...

did the ancients cover their faces to pray

with deep groanings within,

or raise hands high to the sun,

moon and stars;

or call out with dread

ashes cast upon their heads?

...

did a vital part of us die

to make room for words?

and then even more

thoughts crowing to be heard,

when we began to babble and took

pleasure in the sound of our voices.

...

did the tweets and grunts in former days

understood, become alien, beastlike

once language was invented anew?

forsaking sister bird and brother bear,

no more remembering our former kinship

with nature's innocent children.