Rachel

Now lost and broken, no desires left,
a gentle flower never to be found.
She, by the God so mercilessly bereft
of prized rewards of love with no account.

Her eyes – black lakes that Jacob used to dry
with mellow kisses, to remove her tears,
her graceful lips - a brittle butterfly
that is fragile and lucid in its fears.

He was content to wait as his young bride
was near and the time would quickly skip,
he has allowed his Blessing do its ride
on curly backs of grazing spotted sheep. 

Then she and he awaited seven years
to get the precious gift – Rachel’s first son
whom Jacob called “True Son”, if others were
of no importance – horror to be done.

The fortune-teller warned that not her first -
her second child will be her own undoing.
Her bitten lips blood-stained, his love was cursed -
the brunt of jealous God who knew no ruing.

As Jacob prayed to let her anguish pass,
his aching soul was weeping for his treasure,
but then he begged his God for mercy, death,
as her torment exceeded human measure!

Now Rachel’s dead and Jacob digs her grave
in no one’s land, the grieving tribe was passing.
A stone, next to a black and empty cave,
without Rachel’s name - would leave you guessing.

The prized reward, the flower of his heart,
with sunny smiles and glowing eyes of night;
her tomb in sandy Palestine will guard
young lovers and will bring them hope and light.