Providence

Poetry: 2002 #8

What Providence

to place that lush and laden tree

so central in the garden

and then forbid the eating.

To place the best before her eyes,

torment with the constant sight

of all most welcome

to her senses and her mind.

Pleasing to the eye and good for food,

a thing to be desired to make one wise.

In all her innocence and with God-given wit

she thus assessed it.

Yet pure logic in a sinless mind

proved somehow – theology won’t tell –

to be primordial lust of flesh and lust of eye

and boastful pride of life.

Should not Eve with Israel at Rephidim

cry out – Why hast Thou brought me here

in order to destroy me?

She died in exile,

having discovered her time to be

so like our own subapostolic present –

replete with miracles

wrought always in the past or in the future.

Reduced to toil, then to dust,

her lips still tasting

the memory of sweet contraband,

condemned forever.

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Photo by Engin Akyurt

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