Lot’s wife
She held a lot,
The morning hues
The mows of the herd,
The soft flap of the wind
Against the tent roofs
And the smell of bread
Fresh from the hearth
All within her.
She held a lot,
The echo of the childish laughter
Of her grown-up sons,
Lingering among the folds of the curtains,
The grunt of the camels, and
The dust washed off,
The cracked feet of your guests,
The earthy aroma of the open vats,
Brimming with the wines,
It is her heart brewing them,
All within her.
Like a cookie jar,
She holds her whole village in her,
Never, never able to run way
From the wrath of Gods
Falling from the heavens,
From her memories or love,
Welling inside,
And you laugh,
She’s Lot’s wife
She still holds a Lot.
(Note: In the Bible, Lot’s wife is a figure first mentioned in the Book of Genesis. According to the Bible, she became a pillar of salt after she looked back at Sodom. She is not named in the Bible but is called “Ado” or “Edith” in some Jewish traditions.)
Different kinds of love
There are different kinds of love,
Some look straight into your eyes,
Scoop out your lies,
From the closets of your heart
Bluntly spread them on the table,
A roadmap for the world,
But when you are in splinters
They still hold you together.
Some use their best smiles, best words
And their best swords,
To pare your ribs,
In the darkest knots of your life.
Some like wildfire
Burn your deadwood
Tiny shoots too, merciless
Their laughter crackles,
Your bones glow fiery coals,
And they bring the rains,
Springs new buds in your soul.
Some pop up in your twilight,
Out of the blue, uninvited
Hold your weary soul,
Leave a slice of the moon,
Over your horizon,
When they wane,
You still know
They will be back.
About the Author
Jaya Abraham is from India and teaches economics and statistics in Abu Dhabi University. She writes poetry as the expression of her response to the world around her. Her work has been published in major online portals. In addition to writing poetry, she is also interested in green and mindful living.
