|Photo by: Moyan Brenn|
In that moment, it seemed like a good thing
to eat the fruit -- plump, beautiful, juicy.
But then her lips started puckering,
her throat felt dry, her stomach empty.
With her face burning and heart pounding,
she tore off branches and hurriedly
covered her raw skin before hiding
as the rustling steps approached, slow and steady.
All she could think was that he knew. He knew.
The color drained from her pores as the pool
of bright red soaked the dirt beneath the trees.
With wet cheeks and trembling lips, she received
the new work -- the garment, another gift
to replace what she had tattered and ripped.
Years later, through her sweat, pain, blood and tears,
she looked to the day when they'd smile to hear
those slow, soft, measured footsteps on the Earth
and her laughter rang out as she gave birth.
- By Katherine Lorance