The Forgotten Creation Story
By Beverly Greene
By Beverly Greene
NOTE: This poem is protected by international copyright laws and may NOT be reproduced in any form without Beverly Greene's expressed and written consent.
You think of a mirror
when you look at her,
expecting to see your
own reflection in her face
and you're filled with hate
when you see that it is only
her standing before you.
You wanted a child
to be another you,
to live on as you
so that you might have
some kind of immortality.
You taught her your religion,
gave her your nose,
shared your life story,
and told her to live by your rules.
She jumped through your hoops
but then she grew up
and got a mind of her own.
She became her own person,
like you had done before her
when your parents created you
in their own image.
So maybe she did become you
by becoming her.
But you're not satisfied with that.
You don't just want her life,
you want her soul as well.
You tell her she's a bad person,
for some reason sick in the head,
someone who will be a bad parent.
You've told her that she's not happy
and you would know that even though
you only see her a few times
in the past several years.
Even now, you try to tell her
who and what she is
and even how she feels.
When are you going to wake up
and realize that she isn't you
and you can't make her be?
You are not the God you preach
about in your sarcastic tone.
You do not have the right
to create a person in your image.
You do not have the right
to take away her free will
simply to make your slumber
more peaceful at night
by the illimination of some
long ago conjured up sin.
This is the seventh day
and it's time for you to rest.
You've done your job,
you created her,
brought her into the garden,
breathed life into her lungs,
and taught her to feed herself.
Now it's time for you to sit back
and let her decide for herself
which fruits she will sample.
She will never follow your
footprints in the sand
as they washed away behind you.
She is creating her own mark
and if you want to be a part of that,
you have to set her free
to tred on her own two feet.
Perhaps someday when you
realize that we all must find
our own road to travel,
you will find out that
your life can intersect hers
where love and respect meet
somewhere in the middle.
This may be the hardest part
of the entire creation story
but we are all Frankiensteins.
Our creations take on a life
of their own and leave us behind.
It's the circle of life,
the path that we all must take.
And now it's your time
to continue your own journey
and let your child find hers.
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� 1999 Beverly Greene owns all rights to this original poem.
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