a prayer to Adam

I meant to post this a while back.
It's a poem printed in the May/June issue of _Orion_ magazine (an incredible read).
I'll not go into how moving this poem is... I'll just post:

_A Prayer to Adam_
by Robert Cording

Muse of names,
Help us to know
What we cannot name.

Gardener of paradise,
Help us grow upright
With the modesty

Of plants that find
Freedom in their lack
Of choices, and thrive.

Father of death,
Help us to live
With our dying

So that we may find
Ourselves walking back
Down a path we forgot,

Toward a field
Here on Earth where
The sun is so bright

And clear that even
The dullest sparrow
Is seen in the richness

Of its browns and grays,
The streaks on its breast
Numbered in our sight.