HAGAR

I’m the slave, Hagar.

You’ve heard of me from those tending sheep.

Tents are scattered wide and far, but Words know no boundaries.

Conversations travel afar.

In the settlement’s largest tent, everyone knows

My mistress, Sara, the Hebrew princess.  

Unlike me, she is old.

She sits by her door, using her needle, 

Or looks toward the hills seeing all the children at play; 

Children whose Mothers are her foes.

Those mothers in their far-away tents look on her with such great distain

And say,.

“Princess of the Clan she may be

But no babe has she suckled at her breast!”

The women know ….. 

but care not for all her pain.

I’m bought for a price,

taken from Egypt, a land much more advanced

to serve as chattel in this wild and primitive land.

And no one came to seek my advice.

Sara, now very old, 

Her body long past the time of women, it is said.

And yet her soul aches for the touch of her baby’s face.

To Abraham who gets all the blame, she is such a scold!

Angels came to promise Abraham a son from his loins.

But that was so long ago! 

Nothing has happened since!

Now Sara comes persuading . . . . she is saying,

Abraham and I are to be joined!

Inside I cry, “No!” That cannot be!

My virgin body, my heart have been vowed

To one who tends the vineyard, and Now,

That love will pass from me!

No one came to seek my advice.

Poor Abraham to her he must concede!

A babe she must have!  

All Those women in their tents have Sara’s very being 

Squeezed!

As if in an olive they may be.

Sarah provides; 

makes ready a bed;

Surely a surrogate child can be had!

The deed is done.

My virginity, so tenderly once held, 

has now been so bloodily shed.

In passing months, 

I feel the surging strength

Gnawing inside my enlarging girth, and all the while 

Suffering Sarah’s many affronts.
 

Her jealousy and torments drive me to the desert, out of the tent!

To die or return to my land!

I can no longer bear all the atrocities

Suffered under her willful intent.

In the desert, an angel comes to say, 

“No! you’re not through.”

He offers comfort and says,

“Go back,

Have your babe among the Hebrews.” 

​

Abraham’s son I have had; 

Black, shining hair that glistens in the sun,

With skin so smooth and fair

He grows to be such

a strong, handsome lad.

Abraham’s joins,

Now this time with Sara! 

Another visit by an angel had.

Once more promised

Within a year, 

Their child, Isaac, will be borne!

She is surrounded by Angelic Light.

The ripple of Sara’s soft laughter is everywhere; 

What will this mean for my son, Ishmael, 

Now over twelve?

Is he not Abraham’s first rightful heir?

No one came to seek my advice.
 

Abraham’s son, Isaac, borne from the loins

Of a man One Hundred.

Sarah, now Ninety 

looks upon her baby’s face.

At last!

Sarah, guarding the  inheritance, 

Demands now we unjoin!

It is too much to bear!

Sarah goes to Abraham; pleads her case.

I must take Ishmael and leave with great haste!

Once again the barren

desert will surround me there….

A little water and a loaf of bread; thrust into my hands;

The young lad clings to my side, 

not wanting to leave!

“Have we not in the past had great feasts?

“How long will we last with this meager fare,” he asks 

“Walking in these hot desert sands?”

Our water and bread gone, we see nothing ahead.

No longer can we endure this blazing sun.

The lad stretches out in the shadow of a rock.

My heart aches; will I soon turn to look back 

At his body once so fair, 

and now to find him dead?
 

What is that . . .  hovering over me?

Is that just a heavenly breeze? 

Or, do I see someone else seeking relief?

No, it is an angel 

pointing to a well of water for me!

​

My head now refreshed and raised, 

I walk with my own Abraham’s son in sight,

Leaving far behind the mistress, the Hebrew princess, 

Abraham and their Lord promised son,

Pondering what the future holds for my son, Ishmael

I wander  

I wonder. but

No one came to seek my advice.