Mired in maze of my temperamental mind
are memories of our garden before the snake
and jumbled mess of me he left behind.

   Thin, cylindrical body slides so smooth still in memory.

Who sinned first? Is it I? Am I the one to blame?
Easier to damn some sinister other,
slithering serpent, devil in disguise.

    You tasted, too, of forbidden fruit those fair, but fateful, days.  

Then you pointed snaking finger, abandoned me,
shaking your head in disappointment, chiding
me for womanly weakness, wormhole will.

    But I fished mirrored images out of your sad sea-green eyes.

Through years that followed Fall I came to understand
shared pain in falling short, failing Creator
and one another, losing Eden ours.

    I have borne my pain and now embrace all creation anew.

You, my Adam, meant to be first and last are all
that’s missing in my world of healing, changing,
growing, state of grace. Come, let us worship.

    Let us ask forgiveness together, and let’s start fresh this day.

Take my hand. Walk with me boldly into future
God has planned for us, and let us make our home
in garden God provides, our love restored.