In The Beginning Poem by Bryan Thao Worra

Depending on the tradition, you hear:
There was nothing, or there was chaos.
No time, no space, not even a single atom

Not a ray of light, a whisper,
No scent of papaya or rivers.

Not a body, not a soul.
Not a ghost of a dok champa

Or even a memory

Of a touch in the darkness,
Or a taste of a home-cooked meal from

A tiny garden in the window
Of a dreaming woman

Asleep amid her books and clothes,
Her brushes and tools.

In the beginning, though, there
Was no hate, no war, no anger,

No constant return to life after life
Because of our ignorance and lusts.

Still, I look back with no regrets
At our world of fires and love, of ice and hope.

My mouth opens in song
In the brief time upon Earth I have,

Creating amid destruction.
Growing against silence.