Eve – A Poem

They told me I was born of Adam’s rib,
bone of his bone,
flesh of his flesh,
but I don’t believe it.

Bones are hard.
I am soft,
yielding,
easy to bend.

I think, instead, I was molded
from soft clay of the earth,
that God’s fingers glided gently over me
when He shaped me in my Mother’s image.

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