The first Adam—
breathed by the breath of God,
stood tall in Eden’s garden, clothed in glory,
created from dust infused with divine destiny.
And from his side—
not his head to rule,
not his feet to be trampled,
but his side—
God pulled forth woman,
and matched her bone to his bone, flesh to his soul.
And from that union,
the human family bloomed.

But, they ate from a tree
Then came the fall—
from trust,
from dominion,
from the divine design.
Adam sinned,
and the authority over the earth slipped from his grip,
spilled like blood from pierced hands,
and chaos crept in like a thief through one act of disobedience.

Yet Heaven had a plan.
The Second Adam stepped in.
Not made from dust, but descended from glory,
wrapped in flesh to rewrite the story.
Jesus—Son of Man, Son of God—
walked where Adam fell,
stood where sin broke lives,
and carried a cross of salvation
up a hill of redemption.

And when He died—
Oh, when He died—
they pierced His side.

Not coincidence.
Covenant.

For just as the first woman came from Adam’s side,
so now from Christ’s wounded side,
the Church was born.
Not bricks or steeples,
but a living, breathing, blood-washed people.
Bound by the bloodline
of a Savior who surnamed us—called us
family

From His side,
we rise.
From His pain,
we proclaim.
From His sacrifice,
we unite—
not scattered seeds,
but one body,
one Spirit,
one eternal name.

So when you ask who I am,
I say:

I am from the side.
The pierced place.
The precious space.
I am born not of man’s will,
but of Heaven’s decree.

I am church

From sin set free

---

Afterword: This poem was inspired by a sermon my pastor preached a few weeks ago, where he drew the spiritual parallel between the creation of woman from Adam’s side and the birth of the Church from the pierced side of Christ—His bride. I had never made that connection before, and it stirred something deep within me. I sat with it, let it take root, and out of that reflection, this piece was born.

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In creative solidarity, Dee