Mythologies Poem by Irene Mitchell

Anywhere
is the center of the world.

In the beginning
all was under water until
we took up our positions
upon the place of emergence,
the seeded earth,
making different noises for the same reason,
nourished on cloud pollen
and flower dew.
Arctic birds winged ahead and came back.

The fulmar flew over ice floes
with a flattering song
just as the people with much to carry in their sleds,
bows strung and thrummed,
were about to set out on a hunting journey
for sea mammals and reindeer.

However, they had no luck in their hunting
because Universe was sleeping,
not looking after his children.

Universe and his wife Rain Woman
had been busy billing the Northern Lights
as the flashings of spirits in combat.
The sky was so heavy in the morning,
it stole light from heaven so birds could find their way.
Universe and his wife remained in bed.

This posed a delicate problem,
yet I understood more than I saw.

I called to my steersman,
who rose and pulled up the anchor
awash in the sea,
believing only in my own mind.