so so close
but worlds away
like Adam’s outstretched finger,
i know not the warmth of your touch.
that tragic scene
longing for fusion:
to be created
is to be separate.
who am i to blame?
how can i be both
wounded youth
and wise adult?
it makes you uncomfortable
is it your fault, is it not
i do not know.
I’m reminded of that old fear:
who would i be
if i were born
in Nazi Germany?
i lower my pointed finger.
raised in the new world,
you in the old.
shock.
denial.
anger.
acceptance.
i found that forgiving you…
it was like accepting a loss,
the grief final.
these roots go so deep
but that bramble cuffs you
to that rock-like dirt.
I’m done breaking my back
to pull you free.
I now walk away
and leave you be.
I love you —
But ma,
I need to be me
One response to “Creation of Adam”
Your poem is an emotionally layered meditation on estrangement, trauma, and the bittersweet power of forgiveness. It reads like a farewell—perhaps not to a literal person, but to a relationship, a family bond, or a version of the self rooted in shared pain.
Here’s a close interpretation, stanza by stanza:
so so close / but worlds away
like adam’s outstretched finger, / i know not the warmth of your touch.
You open with the iconic image from Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam—that fateful gap between fingers. It’s an image of nearly connecting, of divine potential unrealized. There’s intimacy here, but also deep distance.
✦ Theme: Longing for connection, but being permanently separated by something fundamental.
**that tragic scene / longing for fusion:
to be created / is to be separate.**
Creation here isn’t purely joyous—it comes with division. You’re born apart from the other. There’s a kind of existential grief in simply being individual.
✦ Theme: Separation as an inherent part of existence; the wound of individuality.
**who am i to blame?
how can i be both / wounded youth / and wise adult?**
This expresses inner conflict: you’re no longer a child, but the wounds remain. You struggle with accountability and healing—how can you be both the hurt and the healer?
✦ Theme: The tension between past trauma and present wisdom.
**it makes you uncomfortable
is it your fault, is it not / i do not know.**
You confront someone—perhaps a parent or older figure—with questions they don’t want to face. But you’re no longer demanding answers. There’s resignation here.
✦ Theme: Ambiguity, unresolved responsibility, emotional distancing.
**I’m reminded of that old fear:
who would i be / if i were born / in Nazi Germany?**
This heavy reflection questions moral identity under different circumstances. It introduces moral complexity—suggesting even “bad people” might be products of their time or place.
✦ Theme: Compassion tangled with horror. A questioning of inherited judgment.
**i lower my pointed finger.
raised in the new world, / you in the old.**
Here is a generational divide. The speaker decides to stop blaming or accusing—lowering the “pointed finger” of judgment. You acknowledge that your experiences are fundamentally different.
✦ Theme: Letting go of blame. Recognizing the influence of time and upbringing.
**shock.
denial.
anger.
acceptance.**
A quiet echo of the grief cycle. It signals both personal loss and the processing of trauma. The brevity adds weight—these are stark emotional beats.
✦ Theme: Grief and the slow evolution of healing.
**i found that forgiving you…
it was like accepting a loss,
the grief final.**
Forgiveness isn’t a reunion; it’s a recognition that connection may never come. Forgiveness becomes an act of emotional closure, not reconciliation.
✦ Theme: Forgiveness as a private act of mourning.
**these roots go so deep
but that bramble cuffs you
to that rock-like dirt.**
Here’s where the poem’s metaphor blooms. The person you’re addressing is trapped in the past, in pain, in identity. Their “roots” are deep, but instead of grounding, they imprison. “Bramble” evokes entanglement and pain.
✦ Theme: Generational trauma, inescapable identity, the pain of origin.
**I’m done breaking my back
to pull you free.**
This is the turning point. You’ve tried—emotionally, spiritually, maybe even literally—to “save” or change this person. Now you release that burden.
✦ Theme: Letting go of responsibility for someone else’s healing.
**I now walk away
and leave you be.**
Finality. A calm and painful liberation. The love is not gone, but the effort is. The poem ends with a quiet exhale.
✦ Theme: Boundaries. Release. Peace through separation.
Overall interpretation:
This poem is a farewell letter to someone you once ached to connect with—possibly a parent or a cultural ancestor—whose traumas or beliefs kept them (and maybe you) trapped. The speaker has wrestled with pain, guilt, compassion, and disillusionment, ultimately choosing liberation over entanglement. Forgiveness comes not from closeness, but from walking away with grace.
It’s about accepting that not every bond can be healed—and that sometimes, the most radical act of love is letting go.
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