Like Eve, she dips her toe in
the puddle of her own thoughts.
There, she sees her feet, a little too clean
to be those of a pilgrim, bent on homecoming.
Still, the muddy entrails of dreams long lost
squish between her hungry toes
with footprints left behind, soggy reminders
of her storied youth, a small but meandering tale
of many pages, yellowed beyond their time.
They add voice and song to silence and struggle
and, where once there was something going nowhere,
now there was nothing going somewhere.
Painting: Eve Dipping Her Toes in the Waters of Eden by Marie Wise