When there was nothing
There was I
Lighting volcanoes
Stretching the sky
Sketching the veins of an acorn leaf
Painting the gloss on the tiger’s teeth

When there was nothing
I was there
Buffing the buffalo
Grooming the bear
Curling the cobra in his coiled-up cave
Rippling the river and frothing the wave

When there was nothing
There was Me
Expanding the girth
Of the Redwood tree
Molding the moon whilst counting the bugs
And no matter if you’re squeamish
But I even made the slug

When there was nothing
Just I AM
Before I’d even offered you
My punctured lamb
I juggled all the planets
Then equipped the frog
With the energetic means
To leap from log to bog

When there was nothing
There was I
When there was nothing
I was there
When there was nothing
There were always Three
Spirit
Son
And Me


Poem reprinted by permission from Homeland (London, Sydney, Auckland: Hodder and Stoughton Publishers).