Psalm C
A song of adopted orphans
Disowned in his untimely death, but why?—
Our father was the second-best man ever to live.
He and his wife thrilled to receive
Their daily visitor who would ask their affairs
And answer questions with a statement or a riddle.
They rejoiced in these visits
From love that sprang from their hearts.
They entertained no thoughts of greed or malice,
Although what seeds of smug ego were treasured
By what emergence from what cloud of nerves
Interlaced dubbed free will?
Their days were all pleasant and bright.
The cool of the nights became the warmth of the days
Which would at times fan with a breeze or charm with a mist.
One day as happy as any day our father was struck with a word—
A quick word from the woman he loved—
“I ate the fruit of that tree,” she said,
And he knew—
And here the tease:
Our mother deceived but our father not.
From John Milton’s reading—
And he knew—
“I’ve lost her,” was the horror
That hit him like bricks.
“Her beauty! Her charm! Thrown away!”
Or—overheard by me from a dubious source—
And he asked—
“Why? Why did you do it?”
To which she replied—
“The snake tells a wonderful story.”
“A snake?” he breathed,
Proclaiming—
“She has found a spirit world!”—
A first glimpse of the unseen.
Why! we cry, Why did they do it?
Could they not have done otherwise?
We disowned our father for his chosen choice—
Either
His choice noble and daring, lordly and staunch—
His choice to go with the woman he loved
To the depths of the blackness of death—
An embrace not surrendered for any—
The otherwise insufferable—
The skipping along merrily after she dropped
Which was all he could think from himself,
Or
His choice wild and daring, loose and vagrant—
His choice to touch the unseen
In the world enshrouded—
A joy worth the cost of his life—
A reach unconsulted with wisdom—
Thrilled from himself.
Either way,
His feelings o’erreached the forgotten of Yahweh,
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