Northern Labrador, stormy rock-cliff island
My sacred place calls, dreams that beckon,
Divine voices I know well, who recognize me,
Jacopee, obedient follower and shaman,
Separated, elevated from tumult of southern
Shores, my holy place, overlooking cresting
Seas, massive icebergs, distant fishing boats.
Brisk wind at my back, I raised my canvas
Tent, wrapped in caribou hides, I ascended,
Cloud-path to Holy Breather of Life, sunny
Breaks of divinity, acceptance of holiness
Upon sacred steps, his words received,
Questions answered, concerns of the people,
Our future, place of reassurance.
Except today within my vision, he spoke
One word only: Creation. At first I saw darkly,
Universal void, chaos, absence of all light,
Ancient Obsidian Night before nature took
Shape, creation’s single spark, first thoughts
Arousing, light conceived within the Cosmic
Womb, thought made visible and indivisible.
Suspended in time, I observed holy light, star
Formation, super-nova exploding destruction,
Mirroring the beginning, dust of life, gravity-
Ordered genesis of planets, orbs coalescing,
Suns, planets, moons, my night companions,
Shimmering auroral arch, spiritual realization
On Arctic winter nights.
Overwhelmed, I returned to my sacred island,
My soul illuminated, my heart soaring for my
People, and when they asked of revelations
Beheld, I replied in one word: Stardust. I had
Been touched by divine, their guiding light,
Shaman-healer, sustaining force, humbled
Understanding, we are living stardust.
“Who knows truly? Who here will declare whence it arose, whence this creation? The gods are subsequent to the creation of this. Who, then, knows whence it has come into being?” — Rigveda