by Marah McCarty
she is quiet within her skin,
although there is no definition for demureness in the Garden.
she does not need to be courageous,
feel the adversity which make women stagnate to
God’s greater plan.
she is supple and pink,
a canvas of the most impractical woman
and mankind’s most perfect.
he is robust, with large hands
which do not know wear or dread or
the sting of a cut.
he is not authoritative or contemplative
as the world is built to its ideal blueprint,
and he has yet to understand that trees
may be cut down.
she holds him at night,
her body curved like his very rib,
and he delights in her embrace.
love will never be more perfect,
and lust will never be as God-granted.
she exists, timeless, unknowing
that she will be shamed as
the inadequate mate for
what is his superior birthright
because in the Garden there is no pain
or abjection.
he exists in his wholeness, beyond
the borders of the Garden, into the barren soil.
she is baptized in the sins of all of humanity,
and it tears apart the womb that birthed the magnanimity
of creation.
Category: Featured, Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU Student