A brief prose piece (Survival) for @wonderdunk

Survival
by Sheri

Adam and Eve were on an island loud and vibrant in the middle of the Atlantic and the island wouldn’t go down despite every storm they faced in their relationship since she was the first scientist who

experimented on the swamp waters the insects the exotic trees and he was the first monk who sat in the shade and worked on making peace in his heart despite Eve’s racing thoughts and one day a snake came

down the tree and Adam watched and it sunk it’s fangs into his flesh because Adam had no defense and when Eve came back she saw his predicament and she was really pissed and she sucked out the poison

and made a turniket and a remedy from plants oils and berries and after a week Adam was healed and then he was the first poet and he wrote of how this snake tempted his peace and whether he should have

allowed it or what he could have done it was this snake that was the first cause to imagine resistance as something good and he said Eve I see how you test the waters the bugs the trees and find out what they

will do for survival I’m going with you tomorrow out to explore and they became the first couple that gave up peace for the rest of the world

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instinct, impulse, intuitive nature, reflex,

I might have to channel it though, my fight,
into something other than writing,

and I do have a punching bag.
I want to talk to you about resistance.

You would agree. “I have suffered the human
heart against the angst, the human mind
against the occupation…”

I wrote most of This Sky I Know in a dirty bathroom,
to find the beauty in what you don’t see or experience first hand,

to be not easy with yourself or your life,
to fight against pain to find peace,
but to fight for it.

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I might hear on the news,
a woman saying her son was shot down,

killed,

it’s like she just lost the lottery and there will be other days.
Others, a man in Iowa City, before I left there,

his son mistaken at 2 a.m. in back alley with a phone in his hand
for a gun,
shot and killed by police,
father did not rest, He was my hero,
you killed my hero,
every letter into the paper,
every rally he organized,

I had to leave.
My daughter CF, they’re dying at age 22,
beautiful people,
full of promise.

The cancer kids,
the accidents, the suicides.

No, we don’t bring them back,
we live in pain.

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I wouldn’t knock Mary Magdelene if I were you,

but I’m Christian, and you’re not.

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A story of the Garden of Eden that doesn’t blame Eve for the downfall of humanity. Nice.

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the pure are cursed to live a life in the ‘self’

that they mistake for spirit,
and they will never understand

what love and adoration of life
is until they find it in the saints

like Mary who never knew self.

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the crappiest vessel

makes for the best history,
and you don’t get there on shiny new

or perfect deliverance
I expect that after my death,

not an easy ride into any kind of heaven.

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sorry, @crimby I didn’t see your comment, thanks for your chiming in.

I’m going to try to stop posting on here of my creative works I’ve got a blog and linked in and the share here goes nowhere

Despite others who do curious what they deem good

I notice it’s the same for your fantastic poems @wonderdunk

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