Primitive Man

Primitive Man
Long ago
moving with the seasons
in the days of gathering grass and picking fruit
hunting with stone knives
they lived kindling fires in caves, they say
crying with the wind, laughing with the flowers
a heart like a stream reflecting the sky
calling mama, dada
a baby's gestures, rubbing skin to skin
growing up into an adult
on the day mother departed
in the morning sunlight, they say, he first saw God (神)