CREATION AND THE FIG TREE
Humanity alone is called to assist God. Humankind is called to co-create.
Hildegard of Bingen
From the beginning until now, the entire creation has been groaning in one great act of giving birth.
A continual grumble of groans. And so few
from the act of giving birth. And yet
we struggle to make something new:
a melody or image, a cluster of words
or gestures—objects of contemplation,
castles made of mud, sticks and leaves.
Weathering the ages by simply growing
down for moisture, up for light,
the fig tree presents its dark fruit.
The body is in the soul—the soul
suffuses the body—a materio-spiritual
evanescent emanation of beyond,
mired in this place of hard surfaces,
hard luck, but able to finger-draw
the dew-laden window pane.
The fig tree’s branches arch,
organizing space, like a fountain
of fireworks, like an Alexander
Calder mobile, like a white-
walled gallery, holding its breath
among the opaque spirits.