The Translation of Eve
and flesh had breath. a soul began to be. the rise and eve’s of my
eve-ness. even. balance. man. now, wo-man, even me. Lord. even me ... Eve.
the beginning of yeses and no’s.
the paradigm of mourning and sorrow.
a door opened and another one closes. prayers, and the “we wish,”
forever, transformed.
Transformation.
So then, what is the life but a genealogy of ways.
ways, like silver and golden leaves on a madrigal tree, singing,
drifting and falling away. into tongues ...
and the i am is illuminated. the i am of every man. not the great
I AM of forevermore, but the small everyman. and then, after the
heels of our souls have been bruised. a crucifixion. a resurrection.
a Transfiguration. and the translations began again.
and now our breath leaves flesh and yet here is the consciousness of
mystery, reformed, informed.
our endings are all reborn.
like the we wish, the beginnings and the endings, the life, eternity,
forever, transformed.
Notes:
From “An Amen Arena,” in Black Women Writers (1950–1980): A Critical Evaluation, edited by Mari Evans (Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1984). Reproduced with permission of Nina Rodgers Gordon.
This poem is part of the portfolio “Carolyn Marie Rodgers: What Beauty We Now Have” from the October 2022 issue.
Source:
Poetry
(October 2022)
