I am woman and I have borne the Torah on a gold cloth
over my shoulder.
I have consecrated its dust-leadened parchment,
cradling the scrolls into temple darkness...
clicked-shut the doors, saddened and empty.
I am of childbearing age...
I am crimson with life.
I have touched the Ark.
I have read the Covenant.
I cannot lighten the laws of heaven.
I have nothing to do with clouds or sin, but
I could have shown them where Eden was hidden...
the forgotten way going home again.
I have caressed the male god on his couch
in a ghost-haunted room, a candle-dark room...
remembering a soul, but eyes with no spark.
I have soothed his forehead in the dead hours,
softening his terror, silencing his scream,
'Mother, do not leave me again'.
I cannot replace the laws of heaven.
I have nothing to gain from angels or sin, but
I put him on the road to Eden...
the long-hidden path going home again.
I am woman and I come adorned with a
Mitre of thorns.
I own salvation, blessed and chaliced...
giving to sinners,
selling to saints.
I have witnessed the sins of gods.
I have dried the unwarranted tears of Eve.
I have confessed and absolved the dead.
I will not revise the laws of heaven.
I will not tamper with death or sin, but
I will wait for you in Eden...
at the end of the road going home again.
Copyright © Elysabeth Faslund