Reader Writes August 2023

A Song of Adam.

I, Adam, son of the earth, look up from the stony ground, lean on my mattock,

Somewhere, lost in mists, beyond my hearing, sings our forbidden garden.

I remember, and remember, wiping sweat from my eyes under a yellow sun,

There had been a paradise, our place of dark rich soil in fields of gold.

My Eve was luscious, tall, smiling, dark hair falling down her back;

Slender arms, soft belly, arched muscles, dark fig sweet, eyes bright.

We lay beneath a tree, my fingers playing with her heavy curls, lips parted;

Later we looked up and saw …….ripe fruit, unknown, reachable, tempting.

How we loved to walk with our Creator and friend, our Father and Monarch,

He brought us his creatures to be named, abundant, marvellous and delightful,

We walked in timbered woods, canopies of green in bird filled hills

Flowered fragrance, hum of bees, no harsh weather, life in abundance.

Was it a ‘calling’ forged in our hearts to love all this endless life?

It was certainly undeniable and unavoidable joy to love this Eden.

Why else would we spend our hours creeping up on the rainbow dove

Or gather for each other abundant and impossibly beautiful flowers?

But we forgot our Master and took the forbidden fruit; lost our senses.

Dark sweet juice, like mulberries, ran down her chin and onto her breast.

Purple stained our parted lips, she stared, joy fled and our hearts knew greed;

A serpent was there, flickering tongue and knowing gaze, came very close,

Read our minds; we took it because we wanted it, didn’t trust our Maker.

Abundance within reach to fill our bloated lives with more than we need?

Eden was despoiled; we didn’t stop to think. Surely it’s ours, it’s ours!

Onto the stony wastes east of Eden, no way back, we were expelled.

“Come on, work!” she said; and she’s right, my gaunt and bending Eve;

But somehow, into this exile we bring its dreams and longings undenied.

Our Father put eternity in our hearts, branded us with unspeakable joy,

And calls us home, forgiven, rescued, reunited to where we belong.

He built an ark of timber for us, and was nailed to a wooden cross for us.

When he returns we’ll know him face to face, carry us on eagle’s wings.

He longs to walk with us, fill us with light and life in all abundance,

By a river flowing out of a new Eden, leaves of the trees healing our pain.

Robert MacCurrach