A few steps down the glistening stones to the edge of the marsh
The trees have not started to show their colors, so their rich lime green
Is in the rippled surface below
My hands in my pockets, fingering breadcrumbs, my thoughts on a woman
Pounding the stones of a dry land
Her thoughts not on her far-off home, she was not even headed in its direction
Her thoughts not on her iron-hearted husband
Her thoughts not even on her son crying out for water
Her thoughts only on the need for a crucial well
So distressed she doesn’t see it right away
By the woodland pond,
My thoughts not on my sins, not even on the year ahead
But how Hagar had freedom
And knew her son would survive her
That day she cradled a partnership with God
This poem was published in the Spring 2020 issue of Soul-Lit.
Andy Oram
September 30, 2019