Jul 5


(written for Rev. Justin McCreary’s sermon, “The Devil I Know: Demonic Themes in Spiritual Formation”)

The Garden Bountiful had everything we needed–

The safest of havens, plotted for us in love
Carefree, we moved among the trees
Untouched by shame, untouched by pride.
Innocent: how could we know? Our
Perfection was lost upon us
Until I laid my hand upon the tree
Ran fingertips over encoded bark
Until I heard the leaves
rustle secrets to the passing wind
Until the hunger set in
hot as flame
Sun-rusted flesh gave way to teeth, and
juice ran down my wrists.
Innocence: how could we know? Its
boldness, its fragility lost upon us
until it had fallen, irreparable.
Knowledge, grief, and
death came in their time
But tell no stories of how I was led astray.
Tell the bittersweet story of children and parents:
Say I found wisdom worth pain;
Say I found yearning that outweighed death.

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