First-born

First-born

Light was God's elder daughter... —Thomas Fuller

And God called the light Day... —Genesis I:5

Day. I am saying my name,
liking the smiling sound of it.

In that time before we met,
before she was,
I wandered, ecstatic, over this Garden
brushing stem and moth wing,
ocelot's ear, the river reeds.
In places where I sat to rest,
small lizards shared the stones.

When I saw her, bewildered and alone,
eyes fixed on a retreating figure
bent on work, preoccupied,
I touched her shoulder
and she turned to me, arms outstretched,
my sister, Eve.

It was my joy to guide her,
revealing all I had discovered
walking by myself.
Avid in her delight, she reached out
wanting everything,
tasting plums and peaches,
their juices shining on her chin.
Not content to bend
to scented leaves and flowers,
she pressed them to her face.
And with animals the same,
catching up the smallest,
falling on the bigger ones,
burying her nose in fur.

She ran from me a moment,
vanished in the shadow
of a tree, came toward me smiling,
holding up a rounded fruit.
Above her head, I saw the other one
returning from his work.
It being late then, I withdrew.

On waking, I came to look for her,
found no sign.
A game, I thought.
She is hiding in some darkness
where she knows I cannot reach
But no-
My sister, my companion,
how can you have gone "away"
when this is all, the only place?

Night coming on
and I have not found her,
no trace but a singed and broken branch,
this patch of trampled grass.