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Jochebed
| Open Poetry #7 |
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Jochebed |
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H. Arlequin Member
since 1999-08-23
Posts 210 |
These poems deal with the perspective of Jochebed, mother of the three heroes of the exodus. The voice is hers except for Miriam's after her mother's death, in the last two verses of Moses. Jochebed I Amram II Aaron III Miriam IV Moses I Amram I am a slave, Israeli chattel stock, intended seed, a numbered grain of sand, of vested hills as far as eye could see, and yet enslaved to dread the auction block. A cruel jest, that whispered promised land while Yakov's waiting heirs are property. More distant than El Shaddai's promises to Abraham, is time to rest, or thought of love between exhausted man and wife. Amram and I are one. Ones finding bliss is not ours to guarantee, but Aaron brought new hope tomorrow birthed a better life. No angel visitation spoke the word that from this womb three prophets birth, Aaron to be high priest unto Shalom, his sister's freedom songs the gathered heard. At eighty Moses called ten plagues to earth, Red Sea and sand eruct the chosen home. II Aaron To mortals Timelessness seems mystery, His methodology so unlike theirs for He is faithful to His spoken word. From birth this son was wise in history of patriarchs, the bondage of their heirs caught fire in him as Bethel's voice was heard. He stood beside the spokesman of I Am who told a pharaoh, "Let My people go", before pronouncing plague and pestilence upon the house whose doorpost lacked the lamb, that holy sign death angels would foreknow, but Ramses' son, a hard heart's recompense. He knew no fear, but was a man of peace who chose the compromise in politics; when forty days had passed with Moses gone to bring down Sinai to man, to ease the outcry for return to Egypt's bricks, he struck a golden calf to gaze upon. III Miriam Miriam, our first gifted child, a quick and clever youth beyond her age, as guardian of the bulrushed ark of pitch, wise pharaoh's daughter easily beguiled, suggesting I, the nurse, she should engage, thus Moses had grown up with Egypt's rich. While safely through the Red Sea Israel walked, she danced before the Lord in ecstasy, and sang for days prophetic songs of praise; when Caleb's wife, prophetically she talked for him as one of forty spies who'd see that promised land from patriarchal days. This select vessel had her feet of clay. "Have we not also prophesied?" she spoke in momentary envy of the one who led. Made leporous, she heard Moses pray her restoration, and seven days awoke outside the camp, as new as dawning sun. IV Moses To Egypt, Josef's brothers came and stayed to multiply till numbered more than those whose land it was, and pharaoh had decreed us slaves. When growing more, a law was made to kill Israeli newborn sons, to close the lists on armies from an alien seed. Though praying for a barren womb, a son was born to die. Those labored pangs I cursed, to feel the body torn, to scream in pain yet know before this breast had feasts begun its little guest at pharaoah's word was burst, aborting dreams which could not live again. Before the midwife came at light of day, within a woven basket pitched with tar I hid him in the Nile where nobles bathe. The miracle of Moses royal stay, a princess claimed the son pharaoh would bar, made me wetnurse, her son and mine to save. He was in line to sit on Egypt's throne at forty years, but Moses saw a slave abused, one of his clansmen was struck down. Enraged he killed. I begged him to atone, to flee alone to Midian, a grave and ruined heir to Egypt's fabled crown. If ruler, he could choose to bless his own, instead his soul endured a wilderness of arid rocky waste. Zipporah came, mature, sedate, a desert blossom known to water at the well. Denied access till Moses fought, her life was his to claim. She bore him sons, reflective quietude her gift, as well, to one who could not find direction for the soul, until the Flame of Fire would not consume the bush. That Food, inspired his will, spoke Purpose to the mind, new goals were etched, and gave by faith, His name. Ten signs were given to change a pharaoh's will: a bloody Nile three days for all to drink, a cloud of gnats that landed Egypt breathes, a plague where only royal livestock dies, a hailstone fury killing man and beast, a Stygian darkness to endure by day. a layer of frogs that caused the world to stink, a swarm of bottle flies to bring disease. a flood of running boils in ears and eyes, a sky filled black as locusts spread to feast a plague on unsprinkled homes the firstborn pay The plagues cost sons, Josef's promise to fulfill. Four hundred thirty years from birth to wait the exodus, its joy of being free, exultant liberty in dance and praise six hundred thousand exit Rameses gate. In youthful haste the promised land I'll see to spend in gratitude my few last days. The Great Sea road to Zion is not long, with caravans and forts along the way. Why then the Red Sea at out backs, the dust of chariots too near? The winds will throng her waters back and on dry land display the route to home, but swallow the unjust. When through the sea the ecstasy would last the weary miles till rest at Sinai, where Moses saw the Lord in radiance. The moral law in stone was etched. The past would not stay past, misguided grumblers try a slave's return, the golden calf for guidance. By disbelief undone, her deepest grief had won and I, her daughter Miriam, have laid to rest the light that gave me birth. The wilderness is still our home, relief for none alive, a generation's come this far to die, poor rebels doomed to earth. Remembering her I wept at Joshua's side before the Jordan, as the people hushed while Moses climbed his last to Nebo's heights. My brothers gone, a generation died yet Israel oft recalls, in victory flushed, these heroes He embraced to win their rights. --H. Arlequin . . . . . Women of the Word Poems from the Goober Tree http://nathoo.wustl.edu/goober_tree.htm [This message has been edited by H. Arlequin (edited 05-04-2000).] |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Thank you for blessing me with this, HA. I sometimes lose sight of the rich heritage that we possess. Excellent writing, as usual! Denise |
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David2 Member
since 2000-03-22
Posts 407 |
This is quite impressive. What a wonderful mixture of history and poetry. Very well done. David2 |
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