| A Hebrew Slave at the End of Her Life (ref: Exodus 1, 1 Cor. 13:13) I know what faith is. I remember holding my baby brother in my arms And delighting as he slept, somehow trusting me To keep him safe. And I remember the Egyptian Grabbing him out of my safe arms and hurling him Into the fast waters of the Nile Even as he slept. My mother was beaten senseless So she would not swim to save him. I, too was beaten For my tears. This is what I know of faith. I know what love is. My lover -- dare I call him my husband? Filled me with want, and satisfied me. He moved me to live and love. When his scent filled me, my fear and fatigue melted. It haunts me now, that scent. On a bright morning, still full of the night before, My love was crushed beneath the giant blocks and thrown into the great furnace. Again, I was beaten For my tears. This is what I know of love. Now, I am old and alone I cry no tears for my unborn children For what life could I give them? I have learned that tears bring beatings. The young men, they speak in whispers of Mighty Moses, sent from God to save us. They speak of a Promised Land, given to our fathers By Adonai. They speak of hope, but What do I know of hope? I am tired And I only wish to die. |