Maybe the sin wasn’t tasting
but possessing.
Adam had named everything, everything
in his own tongue. He had
a handle on it.
Except that one thing that wasn’t for him.
All that goodness piling up around them—
maybe wasn’t enough.
Somehow instead of deep trust
they learned to want everything.
Kept picking bananas,
among bananas
going soft.
In the distance, mountains unclimbed,
unclaimed. Maybe that lured them.
Maybe in the end that fruit,
piled up, rotting,
drove them out.
Spurning the deep, coveting the far,
we’re still at it,
dreaming of something better,
ruining paradise.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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