The Fall of Eve and Pandora and the Women of Forever

How much responsibility falls onto the first of creation to hold femininity in her hands,

To be the Eve of Christianity,

Or the Pandora of Greek mythology.

Presented as a gift from Heaven to a man, 

Weak to her enchantment.

There is no malice in her, 

And her tongue does not make a search for poison,

But within her there is a curious yearning that is restless until it rests in answers.

She wants to be full,

To look at her own face and see that she has reached to be the most perfect flower in the garden.

She was made of dust, in clay,

By hands that knew perfection with its eyes closed.

She has everything

Except that one sweetness, except all the mystery inside of a closed box.

So, she does what she knows best,

And she reaches out her hand to taste what is hidden away from her.

There is always something hidden from her,

But this time she does not stay on her pedestal. 

This time she does not submit.

This time she paints her nails in stubbornness and lets her hair go free from its knot.

There’s a crunch with the bite.

Red falls in drops onto the white of her chin.

There’s a creak with the opening.

Dark red fog escapes through the crack.

She looks around as roses become thorns and bodies become dead.

Evil has entered. 

Where do we go from here?

Will women forever be at fault?


This poem is about: 
Our world


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