A Second Bite

Where were you when Adam,
and Eve, ate the fruit?
Knowledge of evil and yet also of
good was supposed to be the promise.
So why is it that lost innocence
leads to so much evil?
Was the first sin of eating
compounded by the second of not
eating enough?

Did we, you and I,
eat only from the unripe side
of that fruit? Or perhaps eat
accidentally from the rotten side?
Knowledge of evil and of good
we have, but confused, oh,
so confused that we mistake the
one for the other, calling good,
evil, and evil, good.

When the homeless are arrested
on the orders of the rich,
or when the single mother is
ostracised for giving birth,
or when the conditions
crush workers’ lives,
or when only the poor pay
meaningful taxes, this is written up,
and proclaimed, as good.

Some have taken a second bite.
See the sandwich, freely given and
half-eaten, next to the smouldering
crack cocaine pipe.
See the hug of care and regard
for the one society did
not want. Or see the picket line
or the protesters march for justice.
There is, just, room for good.

Evil and good. We know them.
What of you though? And what
of me? Do we not know as clearly
as we ought? Or do we know and yet
choose not to know? And in so
choosing, choose the evil over
the good? Where is that fruit?
Ought we eat again, and,
this time, taste the whole?