Wednesday, February 17, 2021

Black and white image of woman's face with red paint across it


God made the world in six days.

And woman, she came from a rib of man.

So, today, here I stand with a hand full of sand

and a mind as clear as a summer’s sky.


Tell me, what am I to do with a hand full of sand?

Build a castle with a moat all around?

Then, I will order the trumpeters to play as I stride

as I think, how I will conquer the man in the moon.


Tell me, how am I to conquer this man who assumes

that my glances in the night are a fixture on he?

If I reach for the sky, I pull apples from trees,

but the Lord did not make me with wings to fly.


So, I close my eyes – pull the curtains tight,

for the battle I foster is played out of sight

and I splendour at the peace of my lonely life

as I dance in my skin to nature’s delight.


I am woman, I am woman, a woman again.

I am woman, I am woman, a woman again.

Hear me clapping my hands to joys of my womb.

See the moat of my castle as a bleeding wound.


Adam is running from the river red.

(Why is Adam afraid?)

The doves are flying on this lovely day.

It is life I bring forth and not his end.

I birth our kind, again, and again.


Onto the seventh day – a woman’s rest.

She opens her eyes to confront her demise,

but the man in the moon is suddenly shy,

for he looks towards me and covers his eyes.


Why is the man in the moon so surprised?

Can he see my form in the light of tonight?

“I am Eve, I am Eve.” I call out to he.

“I am Eve, I am Eve.” I call out to he.


All I can hear

is his quivering breath

as I stretch out my arms

in a naked address.


Poetry © Linda Cull


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Linda Cull is an artist, author, poet, and blogger at Spirit my way® covering spirituality, inspired creativity, and transformative experiences. Keep up-to-date with her latest posts and offerings plus receive your FREEBIES > Join Email List!