Be angry, and do not sin; ponder in your own hearts on your beds, and be silent. Selah.
A city in the valley, lit and warm and barred
to me because of principle. And Esau with two wives
belonging to these people! My heart, cold
as this stone, clutches emptiness to hold.
Me in this place, within constraint, between two lives
and if and when? … and then you’ll be my God.
The woman of my longing — morning dawns to dread!
No Rachel here. A cousin, yes! But facing me this ‘Leah.’
A custom of these people! Exile hope; lies; toiled-
for, lack-love marriage; grasped-at vision; spoiled.
Me for a servant’s bonds and bound for all to see
the ladder’s in the round and round and round I tread.
This valley of decision, cleared of mine, until
there’s only me to fret about, an exile coming home,
the father of these people. Come the day
here comes the other man, some ghost to lay.
Me down to sleep at last. When sinew shrunk on bone
reminds me to remember, I’ll remember and be still.