Eve
Mother of mothers, grandmother of all -
I will ever make the best apple sauce.
Marketers beware, this sauce sells:
A hissing whisper gave me the recipe,
So I pass it on to you,
what I have been entrusted with –
Gifting nana’s finest treasure.
Sexy matriarch, naïve seductress,
Such are the images, my portraits depict.
They do not show my talents and skills
For I was chosen to tend a garden,
And oh, how that garden grows!
Few imagine companion planting -
Weaving creation’s luscious design.
From those fronds I wove a garment
When we were kicked out from our home.
I copped the blame for Adam’s sin.
His action, my shame…?
What’s the matter with this picture -
Where he confesses my deceit, not his own?
Alas, for my garden, hidden in legend,
Known in my memory, fading to dim.
Alas, for its promise and its protection.
We miss the shelter of its delights.
Now we’ve been opened to wider creation.
Now we must tend to a wondrous wild.
Beyond the garden is land’s ancient dreaming.
Here the aunties and mothers come into their own.
In every cave, in every bush dwelling,
Mothers will bring forth all human life.
(Genesis 2-3)
© 2017, A.Koh-Butler
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