Tag Archives: adam and eve

Gehenna or Eden

It is spring. Still cool in the mornings. Warm days.

She sits in a swing, in a never completed park.

No grass. No paved tracks. No transplanted trees.

Just the little playground.

 

She thinks she is 17 now. Her birthday is in mid-March.

It might be April by now, though she doesn’t know for certain.

The war came. The fires came. The silence came.

She sits in a swing, and waits for him.

 

The wind was sewn, and the whirlwinds came a’reaping.

She has been alone for a year. She is always tired. Often hungry.

Her dreams are filled with terrors and wonders.

She wonders if she is a prophet for the remnant.

 

She knows he is following close behind. Is a wary? Is he waiting?

The silence that came after the fires has been the worst. No human voices.

All the batteries are dead. No way to hear music even.

She longs to speak, and to hear, and to touch.

 

She sits in the swing, waiting. She remembers her childhood.

She was swaddled and innocent, while the world was burning.

She knew not what was coming, but it came, and it took her too.

She remembered trying to swing as he as she could, laughing.

 

The boy, has been following her, and she hears him, out of sight.

She has much to fear from an unknown male, but she is lonely.

He is no older than she. Most likely just as tired, and hungry, and lonely.

Adam and Eve in Gehenna instead of Eden.

 

She looks up. There he is. They lock eyes. She smiles.

He walks to her, unsure, as if he’s afraid of spooking her.

She stays in the swing, and watches him, heart racing.

Will he kiss her cheek, or slit her throat? Is he a friend?

 

He goes to the swing beside her, and sits down.

It is spring. The morning is cool. Warm days.

The silence is perhaps broken now, voices speaking.

Maybe it’s a crack in all this death, life coming back.

 

Fighting Chance

Israel, late summer, the sun going to the underworld,
the stars coming out, night sentries in service of their mother,
the moon.
She is walking barefoot on stones, my wife, whom I knew
too early, but now we are one, and we are holy again,
and she is with child.
A pool of water, not yet gone in the bright and hot sun,
I dip my hands into the pool, and I wash her feet,
and kiss her toes, and stoop myself to her.
I thin lift up her shirt to show her belly, where, just beginning,
our child is taking form, the new angel come to the world
we have made, to make it anew themselves as they grow.
I make the bars of the cross with this water, make the sign
of our Christ on her flesh, to protect her, to protect us,
to bless us as we fall towards heaven.
The sky is dark, and the stars whisper they’ll show the way.
We walk on sands and stone back to Jerusalem, hand in hand,
made new again, Adam and Eve given a fighting chance.