Sometimes, I am the cliché apple Eve
was purported to pluck, the single
bite she allegedly took before handing
it off to Adam. Before she was branded
damned. Before she was known as
Snakebride, the woman who asked,
“What might I learn today?” I want
to be that kind of inquiry, stand bare and
bold in the center of a true story, have
the juice of it drip down my own, strong,
chin into the vulnerable neckline
of curiosity. I want to be bountiful, both
twig and stem, the leafed inheritance
of knowing what it is to suffer while
birthing the limbs of an astonishing history,
where there are far worse things to start
out as than a blossom on an ancient tree,
coveted fruit of lifegivers, the core of a
question that naturally leads to more.
In my heart, I am the scientist of trial
and failure and trial and wild success,
mistress of seed and wisdom, sin
in the hands of someone brave enough
to bear it. Brave enough to bequeath it.
Mother to daughter to mother to daughter,
each of us knowing exactly what it takes
to get there. Evolution of a thoughtful
and saving race. Triumphant exit from Eden.
©Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt
V1-2 October 11, 2026
