Cain

Deb Proshad Halder

A damned soul, bereft of the Lord’s grace,

A mere tiller, just offered grass, grains

To please the carnivorous Might!

One is graced, while other, incensed!

It is only the mighty miracle,

Who can explain- why? For what it paid?

 

Abel cannot eat, drink, and move,

Only drenched by the gush of reddened spring;

That was the tidings, as Eve did know,

Repent! Panting!

No curse on any for mourning…

A mother tastes death,

Groaning cry as if the perched soil cracked for the heat.

 

Ho, first father, what did you gain?

The earth cries for thy Eve,

Till you left un-scriptured for the whole scene?

Thy Aclima eloped for thy miscalculation,

You fathered four,

Though failed to bind them all.

You had fruits, though blamed Eve for it,

Favored young lad to plant envious seeds.

A wanderer, the gift for patricide-

The Ulysses

Drinks life to the lees!

An epicurean life

Fathering descendants through Enoch,

All hail thee, as you fill

The Eden with zillions of heathens!

 

Abel leaves the scene-

Scriptures fail to place him in Heaven-

Cain’s realms the earthly Nod-

And glides haste to the east of Eden-

Sevenfold punishment be on the killers,

Though mark is put that spares vegan tiller.

 

Who loses, who makes all the gain?

Who rules the world, who dwells in Eden?

Ho Lord, what thou gifted to Cain,

A Pandemonium, a wander lust,

A Paris gets Helen in Greece.

 

The bright star- not! Never!

The reddened pit, the hurling meteor,

Perhaps, takes after poor Abel;

Though the holy books labor

Less to glorify Adonis in the Shelly.

The sun of the suns, the germinated plant,

Thou remake the world through tilling

Until Tesla tames the Adan

And Akhira to the peaks of Pantheons.