Eve to the Serpent

These questions since haunting my days:
How did I —
who took the first step,
who mustered the courage,
who extended my hand towards the tree of Knowledge
and handed to Adam that fruit of defiance —
come to be ruled by my

And my daughters since leashed to their husbands,
meekly inching their
way behind down
history’s road,
content with
the stale
crumbs of
their masters’

These doubts still nettling my nights:
Had I not followed my heart,
not extended my hand toward your lure —
would mankind have even now populated Eden,
forever-after gifted that blessed felicity, that seasonless bounty?
Would Evil’s thorny weed not have sprouted,
spread here? so many Cains not have raised their
murderous hand?

Would I
not have gotten impaled forever on
the rancorous beam of history’s spotlight —
my daughters kept cowering in their fathers’, husbands’ giant
shadows: muted, ignorant,
servile, female ruses
their only weapons —

And our road to
freedom so long… so

I taught you your name.
Did you think
to teach me regret?