God of the Gulf
Dreamed 2021/3/3 by Wayan
I float in the Gulf of Mexico beside
the god sculpting North America. Grand to learn the recipe for a land that wild and wide. First you sing the mountains up. Then
the ancestors of all. The Elders talked
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The god extends a cloudfurred arm
and snaps a few wood counters on each tribal home. Tall as my thumb, each blocky figurine means one ancestor. The god chants nation-names
I'm home--I know we're planted right
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IN THE MORNING
The Creator places tribes like chesspieces: I just read Becoming Wild by Carl Safina. The section on whales documents huge migrations and behavior shifts in response to human attacks: whales grouped into convoys, tried counterattacking wooden ships, abandoned whole regions, and settled places once whaleless. Chess on a planetary scale.
Humans did the same. As the Ice Age died, and they overhunted prey to extinction... they had to move and change. Adapt or die.
My dream spells out that comforting traditionalist lie: the myth that the Creator placed us all just where we belong. It's not just factually but morally wrong; teaches us not to adapt. When we're dancers on the avalanche--refugees all! As the whales know. As humans better re-learn.
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