“And he said, What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother's blood crieth
unto me from the ground. And now art thou cursed from the earth, which
hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand”
Genesis 4.10-11
The firm earth received me, mouth-open and thirsty
as my drained flesh, the vessel and body of dust –
My blood ran from within me as cries to the Lord, God
and the Lord heard my crying,
and the crying bewailed;
The Lord called to my Brother,
He called to my killer,
whom our Lord had made angry
and feral with Pride.
Then He thought of an apple –
the grief overwhelmed him;
that Cain proved no master
Desire consuming,
and Sin lurked on doorsteps – slid easily in.
But whose sin has undone me?
How can I blame he
who cowers, and covers the shame of his groin,
knows the soreness of tilling,
or the footsteps of God –
The way knowledge unravels,
We cursed yarn of breathing,
ancestral spool, first
constellation of blood.
I inherited such curses:
the bread sweat of mortals,
the fig leaves of modesty,
the patience of Dust.
Cain toiled before me – I watched his mad tilling, and
wheat-bearing countenance and pallor of rust.
I follow my Brother, I will
Follow my Brother
Is my keeper – is Cain not my
Keeper, Cain sentenced to
Wander, my Brother forever
My Brother,
My killer,
My tiller of Dust.
Thus avenged my murder, the
Lord, marking my Brother, gave nothing, no keeper,
My cries settled like dust.