I felt the curse today.
Keenly I saw it in your eyes as you fondled your child. The one you must still protect from me. I spoke and you listened, but our main discourse occurred between our pupils. Five minutes we looked. Foreigners to one another, yet eight feet away. I thought you to be asking me “why”?
I didn’t have the answer.
The division of our languages happened far before Babel. You take me back to Eden with your blink. You don’t trust me and I can’t earn it back. How is it we share the same air, the same dirt, the same home – the same Creator – and we can’t trust each other? I asked you to hear me out. You stood, both of you. You moved your child behind you. Am I so much a threat? I tried to explain it’s not my fault. If I could I would remove this distance.
I can’t redeem you – or us.
Perhaps you know me better than I do. Do you think I would fail if we had a relationship? Would I kill us both as my father Adam did? Probably. This hurts me more than I can remember before.
You heard me out, and bounded away – or did your fawn jump first? However it was, you returned to the safety of the woods, leaving me to feel the weight of a lost Eden. I can’t wait for the not yet of the new earth – then you will let me touch your children and you may play with mine.