eve speaks.

this weekend, while i was away, i composed a series of poems (or finished a composition, is more accurate), of eve speaks poems.

what will become of these, i do not know.
are they any good, i do not know.

what i do know is, all i have lived comes fully to bear in these poems. the wounds i unwittingly inflict, are echoed here. the ache in my soul, resounds from the mouth of eve.

i won't be sharing the poems, i find them too close to, just yet. and am uncertain what i am to make of them. so they will lie, still and silent, enshrouded by darkness. my words, waiting for light to liberate them, just like me.

it occurred to me, i cannot redeem my sins, but often, God uses my poetry to redemptive ends. He allows me the grace of penning a line, fraught with failure to reveal my inestimable worth--and the worth of those i wound.

that these dearly loved souls are within wounding distance, i cannot change. but i am grateful they are there and give me grace. when i come with poem filled hands and lay my work at their feet, they touch my head and speak forgiveness.

there is so much to learn. but with the eyes of eve, i can see how one beguiled moment changes everything. and with the eyes of mary, i can see, how one Man's submission rights it all.

i was told death shroud is not finished.

and that is partly true. death shroud as a work is complete. i will not add to it. but as a story, it progresses on.

mary moves from the tomb, bearing the wound of love.

i'm not sure how eve gets redeemed, or found peace, but perhaps, she'll tell me.