Hagar

Though princess in Egypt I once was
(and surely, by blood, still am)
my body is given, to sell or to keep,
just as a calf or a lamb.

Fathered by Pharaoh of wandering hands
and mothered by all of his harem,
doomed to remember for all of my life
what God did for Sarah among them.

She, married woman, would not stay away
when clearly the Pharaoh would have her;
then cornered, she shrieked for her heaven on high
and heaven saw fit to answer.

The Pharaoh was stung, as if millions of bees
swarmed down in Sarah's defense,
and annoyed as he was, he could not deny
her God (or her lack of sense).

Astounded, he called for his daughter Hagar
and I ran to answer his call.
Not knowing his plans to give me as slave,
I happily entered his hall.

“Better she serves one so worthy as this,
than revels in earthly joys,”
the Pharaoh declares, and so it shall be,
a gift for my father's new toy.

And now, my mistress will give me again,
a gift for her husband to keep;
if she were not barren, the bed would be hers
but I am the sacrificed sheep.

Bound to this woman who could not conceal
her prideful pretensions, so vain!
I am mate to a man not my spouse or my choice,
and will bear Sarah's lack of pain.