Wrong Side of Eden
Here I walk,
On the wrong side of Eden,
The sun beating down upon my shoulders,
Tricking the eyes to see visions of the past.
Sweat mixes with dust and tears,
As I gaze upon the vast desert,
Seeing nothing but the tan and gold crystals of sand,
Stretching as far as the eyes can see.
I look to the West,
Desperately searching for the garden.
And to my surprise, there it lies.
Its lush green trees reaching for the sky above,
Its translucent river twisting along the ground.
The grass grows tall and soft,
Generously woven through
With flowers of blue, yellow, and violet.
A Dove soars through the air,
Singing a joyful and hypnotic tune.
Causing my feet to fly,
Fleeing from the prison of this desert.
The garden grows closer now,
Its border taking shape,
Rising like magnificent mountains of green.
The air shimmers,
The garden begins to fade,
Shutting its gates once more,
Closing the daughter of its land out.
My knees give way beneath,
As I fall to the ground,
Tears cascading down my blistered and sun-burnt cheeks.
I pull a round, black seed
From a pouch securely tied around the waist.
My hands dig a small hole in the sand,
And place the seed gently in the ground.
I bend my face over the hole.
And water the seed with my salty tears,
Hoping mine beloved Eden,
Will take root once more.