At 18, Eve, a novice, counting ageless, rosary beads
A lass on erosion, forsaking, a woman’s needs
She lives on vows pious, of poverty, chastity, and obedience
A dole out of her clan, now, “dead to the world”, her existence
Crooning “Liturgy of the Hours” all-day, this nightingale
Perched on a pew, long-lost, in search of the Holy Grail
“Jesus! What maketh me a nun, is your love divine
What chisel you out, from me next, my fate, cut it fine!”
One day, while Eve sat, in “confessional”, just to check out
A lad rushed in, the other end, sighed, “Father! Hear me out!
Is it a sin, to love Sister Eve, desire her, to death?”
As Eve peeped, thru the grid raptly, O’ did she hold her breath?
“Are you the Eros, to dare, the kingdom of Christ?
Beware! Thieving my heart, an ungodly heist!”
As Ben pulled, the grid down, their eyes did meet
Smiled a dream in hearts, when rejoiced, Eve’s defeat
Was it a heavenly affair or a sinful season?
A million buds of love bloom, not without a reason
Thru chapel and monastery, passed the love’s pilgrimage
Does passion seek permission, when hearts come of age?
Could she hide from fellows, that forbidden child?
Whose creed a sin, nun’s womb abode, an unsought wish reviled
“Mother Superior” moaned “You’re the “Eve”, by every deed!
Debauchery your creed! Would you care to dispose of, this evil seed?”
Alas! Each holy vow breached, Eve, now a broken nun
Will penance be her life!? A woman betrayed, a mother undone!
Each passing year sedated Eve, a barren woman, estranged to creed
“O Jesus! Why it had to be, that a heart with your passion, had to bleed!”
“Mother Superior” now, Eve 81, counts her deeds one-by-one
A woman, cynical, to the world, its façades overdone
An empty womb, an empty heart, an empty life to shove
An aching soul, she smiles away, “a nun, who fell in love”
© 2015 Vikas Chandra