salt and fire | musings of wives and women

i. חַוָּה

(note: to translate the title, copy and paste into Wikipedia; it contains a hint as to the poem's subject)

i. חַוָּה

faceclaim: Neelam Gill

-------------|-------------

the first time you knew of sin, it was when nectar from forbidden fruit dribbled down your chin like oil for the anointing, like worship for another god. (for yourself.) 
and oh, how decadent it was, crushing flesh between your teeth and calling it divinity, calling it decadence–calling it power. (for your own benefit.) 
but you bowed to another, after all, bowed ten and twenty times over, bowed for all of humanity who would come after you with destruction in their veins and hubris on their lips. (for your punishment.)
the first time you knew of sin, it was made of skins and spilt blood and a promise of a deliverer. (and the nectar still lingered on your tongue.)

the second time you knew of sin, it was when your hips became round with life and your son was not like God, but like your husband, like a sinner. (to your dismay.)
and the pain in your chest, in your heart, in your lungs, in your womb that you had leaned to hate and love in the same breath, oh, what a relief it was, nursing your child at your breast and calling him hope, calling him life–calling him a man. (to your own demise.)
but you doted on another, when they came, doted twice as many times over, doted because your husband could only toil and bring forth thorns from the 'sweat of his brow' and return to the dust he was given life from. (to fuel your fear.)
the second time you knew of sin, it was made of two baby boys and a struggling vineyard and a snakeskin shed among the roses. (and your hips still ached with the weight of them both.)

the third time you knew of sin, it was when your youngest slumped dead in the field and the oldest was marked by God Himself, like a murderer, like a fugitive. (then you trembled.)
and when you cradled his body like you used to when he was a child at your breast and you were a few summers younger, oh, what a river it was, screaming out your grief and anger and calling it sin, calling it cruelty–calling it death. (then you wept.)
but you choked on your tears and did not blame another, after all, choked on your tears centuries times centuries over, choked and swallowed and felt the dirt ghosting over the back of your throat and accepted it for what it was. (then you were silent.)
the third time you knew of sin, it was made of a grave and a marked boy and a child in your womb. (and the shards of your heart told you he would not follow in the footsteps of his father.)

–THE FOURTH TIME YOU KNEW OF SIN, MOTHER, I BURIED YOU BECAUSE YOU DID NOT KNOW IT YOURSELF 

(ALSO ENTITLED: TIME, TIMES AND HALF A TIME)