Paradise Lost

The first week,

a new world.

The song of flight:

music of life anew.

 

I worked with clay,

but only then.

Critters crawled,

humans walked.

 

They called me a god,

made my name sacred,

put my words in stone.

 

How could they say

my deeds were godly

when my mercy was a fallacy?

 

Blood spilled,

raped in my name.

Family feuds.

War’s unholy cry.

 

Who am I

to claim the skies,

own the seas?

 

Depravity, jealousy…

I have made them

after my own image,

in my own likeness.

 

My history is murky,

my words ambiguous,

used as swords.

 

I carry on.

My command, your sin.

 

And so, I long

for those first days.

For paradise.

Copyright © 2016 Katy Coutley.

Katy Coutley retains all rights to this work, granting Fickle Muses one-time, non-exclusive electronic publication rights. Please contact the creator to request permission for reprints or other uses of this work.

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