Genesis

Is the sun careening by?

What must I sacrifice

to remain alive, not left behind?

I cannot say for sure, but I

may still lend stoic consent

to end the war and begin afresh,

and they would think I was heaven-sent,

but it would still be too late for some

who will preach on what I could have done

to avoid a war and save everyone,

although they couldn’t ever say for sure.

I cannot ever begin again.

I cannot begin to make amends.

I cannot say for saying when

I cannot bend.

I cannot win.

Now we are forbidden from tasting fruit so, I

wonder what this means for us as I

watch them rot and lay beneath

the blue, the putrid smell forced by the heat,

and wonder at when they may all fall down.

Is the world beginning now?

You are older than I’ve ever seen;

you are a fixture amidst the green,

and I have never felt more deeply than

when you were eyeing spoils we could not eat.

I cannot ever hope to choose.

I cannot do what I’ve been told to.

Though I cannot move close to you,

I cannot refuse.

I cannot lose.