After the Apple Comes the Fall
Spring Path, Kathy Luo ‘19
Kaitlan Bui
After the apple comes the fall;
After a spark, things burn.
It seems whatever humans touch
Will back to dust be turned.
We try to trim a young tree:
We cut, and feed, and tend.
But winter comes, and flowers fall,
And black leaves, heavy, bend.
After the apple comes the fall;
After a life, there's death.
In this dark life, where is the light?
I hear one labored breath.
When we wear too-big shoes
(Even just one size big),
We trip, and fall, and bruise, and bawl;
Our grimy graves we dig.
After the apple comes the fall,
But we know this by now.
And still, we tiptoe, strain our arms;
It looks so sweet and round.
We wear our too-big shoes
And put on a too-big suit.
Although we are not tall enough,
We reach to grab the fruit.
After a stretch, we break a sweat,
Make contact with the red.
We pull it down— forbidden fruit—
But now, we’re filled with dread.
After the apple comes the fall;
All humans know this rhyme.
But still, we greed to grab, to reach—
Though we fall every time.
We think we know more than we do.
28 Spring 2020
We want to be acclaimed.
We want the things we shouldn’t have,
But find we suffer shame.
After the apple comes the fall;
This fact’s not newly found.
The question is: how do we fall?
Where do we fall? The ground?
Does there a hole await us,
A deep, dark, endless pit?
Or is the ground covered with grass
And moss and little sticks?
Is there a cushion for our fall,
And if so, who’s it for?
After the fall, is there just ground?
Or wait— is there still more?
After the apple comes the fall:
A broken record played.
But when we fall, God picks us up.
Slowly, He makes us great.
He tends our wounds
And gives us food,
And looks us in the eye.
“There are things greater than this fruit.
I’m God. I’ll make you fly.”
He tells us, “My dear children,
Why for this fruit do you so care?
I’ve laid for you treasures in heav’n—
They wait for you all there.”
After the apple comes the fall:
It’s ugly truth, not lie.
But if we cling to God’s big hands,
After the fall, we’ll fly.
Kaitlan Bui is a sophomore concentrating in English Literature.