The fiery sun
has dipped under the earth.
For the last time
I look at my garden,
my beautiful garden,
almost as beautiful
as the garden
my mother talks about,
and my brother dreams about . . .

Ah . . .my brother . . .
See him sit there
close to his lambs?
All day long he strokes
the soft wool of his little lambs.
He loves to sit by his lambs,
my brother Abel.

Father walked over to him today
and I saw him put his hand
gently on Abel’s shoulder.
Abel looked up to him,
his laugh gracefully gliding
over the fields, as a pelican
which nears her nest.

When I was younger, Adam
would walk to my garden too.
Now he seldom comes.
Maybe he doesn’t like to touch
a son slippery with sweat,
shifting and stretching,
bending over plants
to save them from weeds.

But as the sun sank lower
my mother came.
First we talked about my garden
but soon about the garden
she dwelled in long ago.
I wish she wouldn’t always
switch from mine to hers.

But she can’t stop.
Before the snakes curled up
under my plants,
she had told me again
how the Lifegiver
brought her to Adam . . .

“One evening, Cain,
He led your father gently
to the riverbank, made him
lie down in the warm sand.
Night fell, and the garden grew quiet.
While a lion nuzzled his face, and
little monkeys ran over his feet,
he slowly sank into a long slumber.

He woke to the elephant’s trumpet,
the warble of paradise birds, and
he knew something had happened.
Wasn’t there laughter
in the roar of the lion?
Why were chuckling monkeys
helter-skeltering in the trees?
But it seemed just another day . . .

He smiled and stretched,
dove into the cool water of the river.
Arching up, he moved
wet hair away from his eyes,
shivering in the morning coolness.

Suddenly
he knew
that he was
not alone!

When he saw me, Cain,
I saw his eyes and mouth open wide!
He looked funny that way.
Then, through knee-high water
he walked to me and so close he came
that we could touch, but we did not.
The garden grew quiet,
it seemed as if
all animals held their breath,
Then the Lifegiver came,
took my hand and laid it gently
in your father’s hand.

At first he was shy,
didn’t know what to do.
But suddenly he reached out,
he felt my face,
his hands touched my mouth,
my nose, my ears, and . . .
when he stroked my hair,
a smile broke on his face.
He felt the bone in my shoulder
and for the first time
I heard him speak.
“Bone of my bone…
flesh of my flesh…
woman came out of man.”

We waded to the shore
and suddenly the animals
came to life.
They had watched curiously
when the Lifegiver
joined us together.

As if to welcome me
a leopard stroked his long body
against my legs.
Two horses neighed and rearing up
pawed their hoofs in the air,
and in a tree a little monkey
patted his mate’s shoulder
with her tiny hand.

The garden was beautiful, Cain.
Weeds did not strangle
the plants, as in your garden.
The lion did not streak
through high grass, craving
for the flesh of the high-jumping deer.
And every day our Father
walked with us,
talked with us,
asking about
the things we did
that day.
Often, when He left,
he would point at the tree,
the beautiful tree
in the center of the garden.
We were never to eat from that tree . . .
never! . . . . Oh, Cain!”

My mother cried,
my mother cried
and left.
………………………………

When I was a child,
the story always ended there.
The tree meant: it was time for me
to go to sleep on my bed of ferns.

So it happened one evening….

My father came to see
if I was safe and warm
in my bed of ferns.
Quickly I closed my eyes,
pretending to be asleep.
He never noticed
that I lied with my eyes.
I waited for him
to softly pat my shoulder
as he had done before . . .
but he didn’t.

To my mother he went
and sat beside her,
their bodies dark
against the moonlit water
of the river.

Then I saw my father stand up
and walk to the top of the hill.
From there he could see
the trees of the garden,
lying as a dark
forbidding
bank of clouds
on the horizon.

I saw him lift his arms,
he would talk
to the Lifegiver
I thought.

But no,
his arms shook,
shook violently!
His hands became fists
and suddenly
a loud cry
tore
through the stillness
of the night.

My mother ran to him,
clung to his arms,
pulling them down.
But my father’s arms
are very strong
and she hung from them
as a fruit from a branch,
crying, “No, Adam, no . . .
He still is our Father!”

His arms dropped,
and fiercely he pressed
her body to his.

For a long time
they stood there,
between the moon and me,
kissing away the tears
on each other’s cheeks.

It was then that I noticed
my own tears, and when
I looked at my fingers,
I saw them slowly stretch.
They too had become fists.
I know now it was anger
which had stiffened my body . . .
anger which made me want to kill,
to destroy . . . to kick,
as I had seen a zebra
kick its mate.

………………………………

Abel . . . Abel . . .
Your face never twitches with anger.
Hasn’t a lion killed your lambs?
You held the little bodies
close to your chest,
tears streaming from your face.
I would have . . .

Abel . . . my little brother Abel,
why are you one?
why am I two?
Why doesn’t the Lifegiver favor
the smoke from my offering?
Is it because of the anger
which sometimes tears me apart?

Even now the smoke of my offering
hangs as a patch of morning dew
over my garden, while yours
is rising gracefully,
a tiny cloud drifting
towards the garden
beyond the river.

………………………….

Does Abel know?
Has father told him?
Does he know that a world
of delight has been ripped apart?
Lifegiver, Lifegiver,
why did you let it happen!
why did you let it happen!
…………………………..

Once I purposely faced the river,
put my hands to my mouth,
– as father did, when he called us
to the food my mother prepared –
and furiously I accused the Lifegiver.

A hare stood
on its hindlegs
and my hand shot out.
The hare cried
– as little Abel cried
when he wanted to be fed –
as I wrung its neck.

The one Cain
smashed the hare
against a tree.
The other Cain,
deep inside,
cried louder
than the hare.

The one Cain spoke harshly to his father.
The other Cain flung himself down
before his mother, sobbing quietly.
“I have killed again, my mother,
and like father I was angry
with the Lifegiver.”

She took my face between her hands.
“Look at me, Cain, look at me.
Do not turn your face from me.
Your father never accused the Creator,
he loves the Lifegiver,
he loves his Father
with all his heart.
Your father shook his fist at himself,
for we are the cause
of our own misery, Cain!
We wanted to be like Him
who created us.
Don’t ask my forgiveness, Cain,
kneel before the Father
and open your heart to Him.
Only then will he look with favour
upon your offering.
For He loves us,
He loves us
so much more
than we could ever
love each other.
For despite our sin, Cain,
He promised us a new creation,
and the evil one
will be destroyed
once and for all.

……………………………………

Abel walks slowly
to his bed of ferns.
Gently he puts down his lamb.
Bleating softly,
it seeks its mother.

Abel . . .Abel . . .
don’t go to sleep,
speak to your brother who is
two in one!
But Abel lies down.
I know he’ll hum himself
to sleep with a song of praise
on his lips.

Oh, Abel . . . why do I hate you?

I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I’ll take your lamb
and tear its warm body apart
right before your sleepy eyes.
I want you to wake with anger
in your eyes, jump up, and swing your
fist at me, Abel, Abel! can’t you see?
I want you to be like me!

I wanted to stand up
but Someone
pinned my body down
and for the first time
I
heard
the voice
of the Lifegiver.

“Why are you angry, Cain?
Why are you so cast down?
I will accept your offering
if you do what is right.
Why do you let sin crouch
at your door?
You must fight, Cain,
fight against the evil one.”

When I stretched out on my bed
there was a peace in me
I had never felt before.
At last I knew how Abel felt
when the Father had spoken to him.

His voice had not sounded angry…
more like father’s voice
when, as a little boy,
I had hurt my leg.

I closed my eyes and
talked to the Father.
“Make me your image, Creator . . .
make me like Abel is,
always loving,
always caring.

………………………………

the next morning . . .
……………………………….

Now Cain said to Abel,
“Let’s go to the field.”
While they were there,
he killed his brother Abel.

Then the Lord said to Cain,”
Where is your brother Abel?”
And Cain replied,
“Am I my brother’s keeper?”
The Lord said,
“Cain, what have you done?
Listen, Your brother’s blood
cries out to me from the ground.
You will be a restless wanderer
on the earth.”

Then the Lord put a mark on Cain,
so that no one
who found him
would kill him.

And Cain went out
from the Lord’s presence
and lived
in the land
of Nod,
east of Eden.