“Eve” by Ellen Peckham
Suddenly sentient but unaware of who she is
or where. First sense of being, her skin,
as her hair caresses, her feet touch moss.
Yet aware of purpose and curious.
She meanders, reaching, fingering, tasting.
Attracted to some drifting objects, she gathers them.
Feathers molted (though there are not yet
word for it) and binds them in vines; a cape.
Her first act of creation. She is born to it.
Perhaps, had she not been offshoot of a rib,
she and her daughters for eternity
might have been purely creators.
How sad that humanity
is said to descend from one
used part infecting “manunkind.”
She recognizes herself in a pond,
each reflected turn of her head,
fingers breaking the surface.
And her cape, the fashion statement.
She is the quickest study. She learns spontaneously
what infants, later, slowly discover.
Then resting, sees somewhat afar, a figure rather
upright and mobile too, but somewhat other.
It comes towards her. Comes for her.
Humanity’s “busy monster” is launched.
____________________
Share your response to this work, in any form, here
Ellen Peckham Artist Statement:
Ellen Peckham, visual artist, poet and memoirist…frequently uses both art forms in a single work, the text decorating and explicating, the image illuminating.
WAVES ALIVE | a different way of being
