Sunday, September 23, 2012

Eve, Mother of the Living

Later, he lay by me, holding my hand
Under black sky, and asked what I missed most.
I should have answered: the cool evening walks,
Or the bright sight of the heavenly hosts,

The joyful lightness of body and soul
Without sin, our own love when it was pure.
Instead – oh, I miss how the rose hedges
Sang rich and low and the beech leaves answered!

I miss commanding the bugs away and
The trees to drop fruit in my palm.
I miss conducting with a whisper the
Treetops to blow and the high winds to calm.

All this, I killed. I turned away from him
And tried to sleep while the jackals howled.

September 23, 2012
copyright by the author
This poem is the latest in my Jewish Anthology, a collection of poems about people in the Bible. You can read all the poems by clicking on the link in the bar above, entitled A Jewish Anthology.


  1. I love the thought of Eve hearing the flowers and trees talking to each other...
    Thank you, M.K.

  2. This is beautiful....and it makes me sad. Probably should.

  3. Beautiful! Powerful! You're a poet.


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