The Naming of Names

They woke in a jungle of leaf overlapped by leaf.

Eyes unfocused, the saw all things and none

in a wakefulness not yet distinct from sleep.

 

Their uncombed hair twisted in rays of sun

wrapped about their heads in crazy wreaths

of light and dark completely interwoven.

 

Their feet touched earth, the same dirt covered their feet

that covered the earth; they were a man, a woman,

still intimate, like plants, with the soil beneath,

 

As quiet as the grass; the two were dumb,

wordless when they heard the rustling leaves.

The beasts, by wing and foot and fin, had come.

 

The cats twitched tails, the serpents hung from trees,

and frogs squatted among the loosening buds

of lotus flowers, all waiting, patiently.

 

The names began to drop off, one by one,

One word fell out to pair with every beast,

until a parallel world of words was done.

 

With words they knew to tell each life from each,

and since the eyes are pupils to the tongue,

they began to see as syllables would teach.

 

They saw each line take on new definition,

as if cut from its background in relief.

For named this was a form of liberation.

For namers, though, names were limitation.

 

They knew their world and from this they knew grief:

By names their lives were bounded and made brief.