On the Eighth Day

“And they heard the voice of the Lord God
walking in the garden . . .” Genesis 3:8

You should have seen her face—
wrung with shame, a tear cradled
against one nostril.

Nothing could have prepared her
for the ache she felt in the shadow of her
father’s disappointment.

It wasn’t that she had done anything wrong,
really, or that he loved her less
on that day than the one before.

It was only this: that he had told everyone she was
his shining star, his brightest daughter.
When it happened she felt dimmed somehow.

She didn’t know she was made for this purpose,
that her desire for something more would lead her
and the rest of us into greater light.

Sometime later she would wonder at how,
unexpectedly, she found the truth
in a corner of the garden,

how she saw error clear as morning.
Then she was aglow with possibility,
certain she would not take the same turn again.

Grown up in a day, or in the very hour,
her husband didn’t recognize her
when she spoke. He heard the new voice,

listened and kissed her cheek. What else could he do
but smile and take her hand when she said,
“Well, Adam, are you coming?”

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