Van Leyden’s “Adam and Eve Bemoaning the Death of Abel” | Jeanette Wakeford

The universe’s first man

Shields his eyes from the aftermath of 

His eldest son’s darkest hour. 

Behind the back of his palm, 

Salt waters sting

For though he does not look,

He can see the intricate horrors of

Abel’s limp corpse in complete

Disarray on the ground.

Legs twisted,

Abdomen bruised, 

Neck snapped,

Face unrecognizable.

How could he let this happen?

The universe’s first woman 

Reaches to the heavens,

Howling in agony as she

Prays for the Lord to 

Undo her son’s gruesome fate.

But she is not looking at the sky.

Her eyes obsess over the boy’s face,

Flickering back and forth between his lips–

In search of a breath,

And his eyes–

In search for that gaze, the one she has known

From the moment she held him in her arms 

As a newborn babe.

Her sweet, gentle Abel.

Her body chills at the thought of 

Blinking,

Opening her eyes and seeing his body has vanished in that 

Moment of negligence.

How could she let this happen?

The earth’s second son–

The earth’s first victim–

Is no longer present in the scene. 

Not really, anyway.

How could they let this happen? 

How could God, 

The Father,

Let this happen?