Eaten In Eden Poem by Denis Martindale

Eve, the Mother of Mothers,
Woken from her first sleep,
Thoughts coursing through her brain,
Accepting every sight and sound,
Sensing the presence of her humanity...

This form was all she was,
It ended there beyond herself,
Yet there before her some likeness,
Some extra humanity...

Words within her telling her things,
Recognising colours and forms,
Seeing flying birds and crawling creatures,
Seeing eyes looking back at her...

Ears, what were these hidden in her hair?
Detectors of left and right events,
Alert to buzzing of bees, eagles landing,
Her own movements across the grass...

And hands and feet, shaped alike,
Fit for purpose, yet what purpose?
Then there were bones within warm skin,
Yet even more, blue lines above bones.

Strange endings, nails, hard skins,
Fingers and toes curling, gripping,
Chest curves hiding the human heart,
More bones front and back,
Being able to twist left and right...

Hair, strange, without senses, dead,
Like twigs on trees, hanging down,
Then an awareness of something,
There between two eyes, a shape,
A mere blur when the eyes are open,
One eye closed and it appears...

And what is that drawing in and forcing out?
The chest filling and emptying,
Yet again, for what purpose?
Oh, my, the amazing concept of the head,
A heavy rock to carry, perhaps for balance?

And a falling gap for thoughts to share,
Leaving her head to venture forth,
And thus she talks and walks to Adam,
To be touched and embraced, softly,
To feel the warmth of his skin...

Is that how she looks with hair and form,
With arms and legs, fingers and toes,
A few differences, yet much the same?
If so, then why, for what purpose?
Strange thoughts tumbling within,
Puzzled frowns upon her brow...

What am I? What are you? What are we?
And slowly the answers unfolding before her,
As if she were a child beside him,
Needing to be taught afresh, listening,
Yet feeling inferior for lack of knowledge,
Surely knowledge is power, to be desired?

And what now? Rules? Told what to do?
This, yes, that, no? For what purpose?
Confusion as to Creation, her creation,
All these creatures, lovely, ugly, why?

Birds flying, yet she had no wings, why?
Forced to walk, forced to run, but why?
Flying is easier, faster, more beautiful...
Adam, fellow humanity, fellow thinker,
Does he know all the answers?
No, he only knows a few answers...

Feeling weakness, inferiority, not being wise,
So many secrets, things unexplained,
Curious, needing answers, feeling left out,
Burdened with strange doubts, as if unloved,
As if not counted trustworthy to know...

But even now, more strangeness,
A creature that talks as well,
A fellow thinker, with questions, too,
A serpent, nothing more,
A fragile thing easily crushed underfoot,
Another reason to tread carefully...

What's that? Eat of the forbidden fruit?
Creator keeping secrets from us?
Holding back both wisdom and power?
But why? For what purpose?
Too many questions. Something's wrong here.
Heart aching for answers, yet no-one in sight...

Just one bite, that can't hurt, can it?
Something eaten in Eden...
And so the fruit is swallowed and death was born.
Something new under the sun, manmade...
Something that changed everything...