Sarah

I know you thought
that God must have forsaken you.
On the nights when the sheets grew cold,
when your husband lay beside the other woman and did not get up,
did you question if the man God gave you had forgotten?
Did you wonder what you had done
in all of your virtuous life
to deserve this?
Did you shake your fist towards the heaven?
Or did you weep like the nightingale greeting spring?
And when the men with shining faces
told your cold womb it would bear a child,
did you laugh in their faces
and tremble within?
Did you remember the cost of hope,
taste the bitterness of all your wasted dreams?
Did you remember the child who was not your child,
the child you cast out in fear?
Oh, barren daughter, did you ever dream of this?
That in all the doubt and rage and emptiness,
it was not a child you sought,
but a King?