Rachel At Gal-Eid Poem by Linda Hepner

What good’s sincerity? I always ask
Sitting behind the drapes and weaving wool.
When you count warps and woofs you multi-task
And if you don’t you’re labeled as a fool.

My older sister Leah proves my case:
Believed our father; longed to be desired;
Though Jacob wept when he beheld my face,
For seven years he played Dad’s shepherd, hired.

It isn’t true the oldest marries first;
Quick with his wit is Dad at repartee,
My sister and her tearful eyes are cursed -
With fool’s obedience and passivity.

He’s smart, our Dad. He saw she had no chance
With caravanning merchants, didn’t care
That lack of love would lead her on a dance,
But thought two brides for one price was quite fair.

He sold us like his cattle, draining our
Inheritance we’d saved like Aunt Rebekkah;
For Dad resented all his sister’s dower
She took with her to Isaac, camel trekker.

Like her I needed to be wooed and led
Away from Father’s micro-managing,
And Jacob fit the bill, wished to be wed
To me alone! It took imagining

That father’s furtive mind would keep him here,
Enslaving him whilst smiling like a croc,
“We’re family! ” he told him, “What’s a year
When you can have two wives, and fill your flock? ”

So whom did we belong to, Jake or Dad?
Two daughter slaves, two masters, one to hire
Our labors, “After all you should be glad
That Jake’s my shepherd; he’ll go on to sire

Sons you’ll need - I’ll let them be the heirs
Of all my wealth, if you will stay with me! ”
But Jacob, itching to be gone, had prayers
To be fulfilled and planned how we would flee.

While he was tricking father, I was plotting.
Bed in bed out I hadn’t had a son!
I needed to inherit, for begetting,
Though Leah’s role, by love was quite outdone.

I had my chance when Reuben, Leah’s oldest,
Brought magic mandrakes from a harvest gleaning,
He hoped she’d then be loved, for Jacob’s coldest
Looks were mere neglect, no deeper meaning.

I traded love that night for mandrake potion,
Prayed it would promise wails of newborn boys;
It came to pass that Leah received demotion
When I gave birth to Joseph, bringing joys

To Jacob and to me, but how the brothers
Gnash their teeth and roll their twenty eyes;
Poor Leah in the next tent badly smothers
Her weeping with a wail that never lies.

I’ve never wept myself, not when my sister
Pretended to be me our wedding night;
I never cared that he caressed and kissed her
But only that my womb froze. It is trite

To sigh as Leah does, obey and yearn
For love from men; sons, ah, that is the need
That every woman feels, for fast we learn
Our strength increases through our carnal deed.

We fled Haran, my father’s home, with riches -
Goats and sheep that my conniving spouse
Cunningly produced with wands and switches -
And Laban’s teraphim that blessed his house.

I took them secretly so they’d protect us
And father wouldn’t learn from them our route,
Because he’d surely find us and collect us
Like mandrakes in a field under his boot.

But Father, ever devious, approached us
With plaintive tones, “My dears! Did you forget
I never meant you harm! ” Thus he reproached us;
His words placebos, soothing like the balm

That grows here on the mountain, causing Leah
To weep and beg forgiveness, when he said,
“I would have blessed you richly with a prayer,
My darling children, treasure, water, bread.”

But: “Too good to be true, ” my instinct told me,
And then he slipped up, adding a complaint:
“Why did you steal my gods? ” he couldn’t hold me
Back from laughter when I feigned a faint

Upon the camels’ saddles where I’d hidden
Intelligent devices, painted gods
that would reveal our whereabouts when bidden
And lead him to us like divining rods.

And Jacob stormed, “You see, no one has stolen
Your precious gods, why should they? Any here
Who did must die! We’re not beholden
To gods, it’s God Creator whom we fear! ”

Dad raced from tent to tent, his white face flushing,
Tearing up rugs and emptying the pots,
While I, with maiden eyes and cool cheeks blushing
Looked too demure to think up devious plots.

He stopped and stared at me, then seemed to ponder;
He left my tent and proffered Jake his hand.
They made an oath upon that mountain yonder,
To part, respect, avoid each other’s land.

I’ll never know if father guessed I hid them,
Or if he did what thought could change his mind;
Or if my husband felt he had to bid them
To stay quite hidden, insensate and blind.

There’s something missing in me, warmth, compassion,
As if I’m destined all my life to keep
Myself immured from others’ pain or passion,
Remorse or love: I Rachel never weep.


LRH
12.9.05
P. Vayeitsei