The Grief of Eve

I think often
of the grief of Eve
giving birth to two sons
only for one to kill the other.
I imagine she wished 
she herself had died 
before she had seen such evil. 

I imagine she thought often
about the promised Son—
the one who would come
to crush the head of that lying serpent
who ushered in death 
by her fruit stained hands
long before Cain swung a rock
at his little brother’s head. 

I hear her asking, 
staring her first born son
dead in the eyes
	“What have you done?”

and then more softly
by the rivers edge 
where her naked shame 
is revealed in her reflection
	“What have I done?” 

I imagine some days
the promise was her only comfort 
in the aching grief that clogged her throat
the burning rage that seared her temples 
making her head pound
turning her once lovely face
into a grief covered frown. 

what other solace could she hold
with Seth in her arms
the son born to her grief in a land 
where brother turns upon brother
for jealousy? or was it pride?
Cain did not heed the warning 
of destruction crouching at his door. 

and what other solace could she hold—
In a land where babies we nurse at the breast can be killed?
In a land where babies we nurse at the breast can become killers? 

what other solace have I? 

and Abel’s blood is crying from the ground and the scriptures say that the earth will uncover her slain and that God himself will avenge the blood of the innocent—that He himself will repay for this evil and this is the promise that now comforts me, for what other comfort is there—

In a land where babies are killed?
In a land where babies can become killers? 

I ache
and I pray
for vengeance— 
for every tear 
and every last drop
of innocent blood. 










**Wonderful image from Hans Hamann on Unsplash**

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