sand crab cosmology
a sand crab’s book of Genesis would read
much like it is told in the Pentateuch tales
Ìý
- beginning with chaos, and the Word whispering over the waters
then order, separation of land and sea, light and dark
followed by creation of heavenly bodies, night and day, and so on
Ìý
so it is for the locals of the littoral zone
who live by the rhythm of their beach zodiac
Ìý
- all is wet and mysterious, but for the whispering Wind
then the water retreats, leaving behind a dry shore
a sandy microcosm with millions of black holes
Ìý
out come the crabs. In the image of Creatrix Crab they collect
sand planets, balance them between their elevated eyes
roll them boldly (playing a divine game of marbles)
into constellations, galaxies around the holes
spreading out a Weedy Way like we have our Milky Way
for they pay homage to seaweed like mammals do to milk
Ìý
every now and then they enjoy a moment’s rest
funtime off to celebrate work well done
see how they yawn and stretch out their limbs!
high up on their toes they tilt their nippers
like dancers worshipping the sun
Ìý
the next chapter begins with travels and expeditions
territorial battles, family planning, spouse stealing, home swapping
much gory tragedy involving an insatiable devil called Gull
and a king tide deluge, their Great Flood, perhaps by Crab’s decree
to send the faithful back to ‘Go!’ and start allover again
Ìý
let us skip the stories of kings/queens, wars, and prophets
the newer books too, with promises of redemption and peace
even apocryphal disclosures of the rise and role of women
and go straight to the book yet to be written in words of our time
but already printed in blood and ash: the book of Climate Change
Ìý
an apocalyptic epos of shameful ignorance, pain and doom
imposed on us all, including the sand crabs and their beach
foretold by modern prophets: whistleblowers, scientists, activists
who are ignored, derided, imprisoned, swept aside
even assassinated for not burying their heads in the sand
Ìý
and if there were an ark or ship or black holed bunker
for the scribes of that current book to survive, may they be
wiser than a sand crab, and of humankind the most kind