The prophet digs with iron hands
Into the shifting desert sands.
The insect back to larva goes;
Struck to seed the climbing rose.
To Moses’ empty gorge, like smoke
Rush inward all the words he spoke.
The knife of Cain lifts from the thrust;
Abel rises from the dust.
Pilate cannot find his tongue;
Bare the tree where Judas hung.
Lucifer roars up from earth;
Down falls Christ into his death.
To Adam back the rib is plied,
A creature weeps within his side.
Eden’s reach is thick and green
The forest blows, no beast is seen.
The unchained sun, in raging thirst,
Feeds the last day to the first.
Djuna Barnes (1892-1982). Reportera e ilustradora. Dramaturga, novelista y poeta.