THE MARKINGS OF CAIN

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I hear the cries of Cain as he was

driven out of Paradise. I see the scorpion-like

mark upon his forehead forcing him to move from city to city.

His offering, like mine was paltry,

light-suffused, lacking a bloodier substance.

I have been driven out of one relationship after

another, being charged with heinous crimes-

by man but not by my Maker.

I labor in self-pity like Sisyphus,

lamenting the pushing of a boulder uphill.

I am told that I am not a star-child wandering.

“Arise, put on your armor. You are a soldier

of light in a lost and dying world. Arise.”

I shake off remorse like beads of water upon

the feathered. I am renewed daily by drops

of dew. I begin to train again like a gladiator

who is destined to battle once again in the

familiar arena of merciless decadent earth..

 

Alice Parris

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