The Apple Tree - Poem by Curtisj Johnson
The Apple Tree
By Curtis Johnson
I do not know why, but for the longest time, it has been assumed that I was in the Garden of Eden. I’ve been seen in gardens, orchards, and the yards of many people, but there is no proof that I was ever in Eden.
But let’s just assume that I was indeed the tree realistically known as the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. For heaven’s sake, let’s just assume that I was an innocent bystander, absorbing nutrients from the garden and producing juicy apples. I was climbed upon by the devil, picked from by Eve, and eaten from by both Adam and Eve.
And can anyone imagine how disrespected I felt and taken for granted? Remember, neither the devil nor Eve consulted me about apples from me.
I grew and produced the apple that caused God to be displeased, and forced him to drive them from the garden. I’m not proud of this.
Moreover, at least two bites of an apple from my limbs changed the course of history for both nature and all of mankind.
Also remember, there was plenty of blame to go around, but when the punishment was handed down, I was not included.
And remember, I have the knowledge and remember very well, because I was there and witnessed literally everything. I even heard the devil lying to Eve, and if I could talk, I would have rebuked the devil, and advised Eve to slowly walk away.
I didn’t know where Adam was, but the least I could have done was to call out saying, “Beware the devil on my limb! ”.
I tell you, I was so sad when I heard God’s voice telling Adam and Eve about their future lives, their limitations and restrictions.
Adam was to work hard enough to sweat, and Eve would always have pain when she would give birth to their children.
It was painful for me to listen to, and enough to make even a tough apple tree like myself break down and weep. But the best part was when I heard God tell the devil about his punishment. That’s when I began to rejoice! Wow! ! I could not shake a leg, but I shook every limb and every bark on my body.
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