The Body of Abel Found by Adam and Eve
William Blake, c. 1825; Watercolor on wood
His muscles stand out in wooden relief.
Bare flesh runs from blue black shadows of hills.
The distant red sun tears fingers through grief
darker than mother’s hair, the boy’s final shroud
her limp body a bower for his will.
The father behind her, eyes searching still
for the son that remains. He wouldn’t dare
look down at his slain son. Mother’s cries trill.
The marked one escapes, tearing his hair
in one moment separated from goodness.
When family ends whose wail is loudest?
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