Brought far from her own land,
one of the rejected race,
the widow she followed
the last sob of her own grief’s kind to
foreign eyes past
idols she worshipped in her youth.
There, fields of barley brought her with their leavings,
while a mother, aged, sat home
and waited for her dark-skinned daughter
to bring the farmer’s love-gift in her arms.
Who knew what child
waited in an unborn womb
to be issue of her unresisted call
to the lowland where the invisible God
hid Himself on a threshing floor at night?—
Or saw the golden throne,
wooden cup,
shepherd’s harp
prophesying songs about another Bethlehem son?
When she made the journey home to her
burial ground
she never realized
she was already pregnant with salvation,
or that once more
alien people
would bow knee to the unseen God.
"Salmon begot boaz by Rahab, Boax begot Obed by Ruth, Obed begot Jesse, and Jesse begot David the king..." Matt 1:5-6
1999
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