poem by Lauren Becca

They tell me to pray lord

For you to save me from myself

They warn me of forbidden fruit

And beg me not to bite

They tell me not to crave the apple

Though I drip at the sight of the snake

I’m aching for a darkness that

This garden cannot make

They tell me I’m pulled from the rib of man

While the serpent sings I’m a God

I was born of corruption and torn 

From the prison boasted as paradise

They tell me I’m the woman of harlotry

As I dance with lovers on the earth

I scorch and greet the end of days

Why do you fear me when I’m born of you

Not of rib or man or king

But in spite of a god that didn’t want me

Why am I written out of history

When I revel in the hell you cast me to 

And feast on the ashes of corrupt angels

I am the mother of your earthly daughters

Their mouths that speak for themselves

Their eyes that see the truth of man

I am the woman no god could contain

And creator of worlds no god can save.


Laurie is an artist, photographer and poet based in Northern Ireland. She spends her free time upcycling pieces of old furniture, rearing sun beetles, exploring abandoned places and getting lost in the woods. Believes in love, hope and wonder.

art by Kali Ciesemier