Thursday, November 18, 2010

Lot's Wife

Somewhere between Sodom and Zoar,
My statue stood. How can it be my fault
That he refused to go up to the hills,
And in the plain, I was turned into salt?

Things went badly for those three, when I died
And they were shunned. How can I be to blame
That they were driven to the hills at last
And, in their loneliness, fell into shame?

If I’d been there, he’d not have been a drunk,
And those wayward daughters would have behaved.
And even though they threw us out of Zoar
I guarantee, we’d not live in a cave!

Abraham saved us twice. What a fine man!
What a shame that, as fire fell like rain,
I turned -- and from that, two grandsons were born
Who later would be his descendants’ bane.


November 18, 2010
Copyright by the author

1 comment:

Hello! I hope you leave a word ~ I will get back to it as soon as I can!