By Molly Swan-Sheeran

    It was the angel in the clouds,
    the face on the tree,
    the driftwood and rock
    that looked like a seal, a wolf, a bear.
    It was the figure of a goddess
    in the reflection of the hills in the sea.
    These were the seeds of art
    when our eyes suddenly saw
    that a thing which was not really there
    could appear to be there.
    A thing could be seen in the symbol,
    in a few blotches and scratches,
    there an eye, there a mouth.
    Then we scratched on the cave wall,
    and smeared bits of ocher and soot.
    There an eye, there an antler.
    And the seeds of art, of language, were sown.
    Here, here, I tapped the wall,
    here a wolf, here a bison.
    Here, here, I drew a river with a stick in the dirt.
    There the water and there the mountain.
    And the map of the land unfolded
    in the minds of us all.

©2003 Molly Swan-Sheeran

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