The Hagar poems

 Hagar: given to Abram as a concubine, bears him a son, is abused and cast out (Genesis 16)

Transaction
Genesis 16:1-3

Hagar had no choice.
Did she love Abram?
At least respect him?
Did he know her name?
Had he ever spoken to her?
And Sarai. Was she really
so objective, so focused
on results that she had
no qualms sharing her husband
with a slave?
I know these are questions
of my time, probably irrelevant
in ancient Canaan.
Intimacy was a social transaction,
a deal made with results
in mind. Even so I ask,
what were the human components
of this transaction?


Stupid
Genesis 16:4-6

When Hagar becomes pregnant
her humanity emerges.
She flaunts her condition
before a barren Sarai,
also very human it seems.
Stupid girl.


Gift with an Edge
Genesis 16:10-12

The descendants without number
part was good, but
a wild donkey of a son?
One who would go through life
flailing his fists, fighting,
hating even her?
A strange promise she would carry
with her, even as she carried
the child.


He Hears and Sees
Genesis 16:7-15

God found Hagar
in the desert.
God heard the cries
of this abused slave girl,
not one of the chosen.
God saw this desperate child,
gave her a promise
and sent her home
to again submit
to those who would never
see her as a person
or listen to her heart.
Along with the child
she carried, she carried
the memory of One
who heard her,
of One who saw.


Remind Me Again
Genesis 16

In those times
I feel
invisible and voiceless,
remind me again
of the name.
El Roi—the God who sees.

Sneaky Peeks

 

My parents were Good Readers.
They had Good Taste,
and volumes of Great Books
filled the bookcases of our home.
Some of the Great Books also
had Great Pictures, and we three kids
liked to look at these, with our parents’ permission.
Being very careful, we would thumb through
The Brothers Karamazov, Ancient Chinese Poetry,
 and Don Quixote de la Mancha, fascinated, guessing
what the stories might be about

One day we made a Find.
Tucked among the Great Books
we found a collection of literary essays
from Playboy Magazine (about which we knew nothing).
It was mostly words, but here and there,
scattered between the essays, were cartoons.
We didn’t understand the captions,
but the drawings
made us laugh. All these
naked grown-ups—both men and women—gamboling
about in fields (“gambol” is the only verb that works here),
doing strange things.
Who could have thought this up?
It was both informative and hilarious.
We instinctively knew we must keep
this viewing pleasure a secret from our parents, and so
we found a hiding place in the bookcase.

One afternoon Mom popped in to find out
what we were laughing about. She saw the book.
She quietly left the room. I worried we might be in trouble.
But neither of our parents said anything.
The book, however, mysteriously disappeared.
We never saw it again.