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After a long absence, today’s note comes from Tracey Rosenberg. Tracey is a poet and novelist. Her blog is here. This poem originally appeared in Gutter Vol. 8, which can be bought here. Additionally, Tracey’s novel can be bought here.
Orpah’s Lament
Naomi told us: go home,
find new husbands in your own lands.
I have no more sons for you, only
a stranger’s austere bowl.
I stretched into the sun; I laughed
once.  Though the darkness streaked
behind us, I stood solid as the trees.
My hands were new pitchers
awaiting fresh water.
Naomi would need bear no burden
except the tiny blossoms I would bring her
every day, to remind her
that the joys of life
need not be eternal
so long as we bubble with praise.
Ruth crouched in darkness.
She cloaked her devotion in grief.
She pledged hard tears upon Naomi’s neck.
When I kissed Naomi goodbye
flowers dropped from my hands.
On the barren ground
they drew their shamed petals
into closed, dry urns.

 

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