I wrote this poem in an attempt to explore the life of Bathsheba. I wondered what it might feel like to experience challenging events in her life. When my friend Kathy Smith read the poem at a gathering last week at my church, Solomon’s Porch, she pointed out that when stories from the Bible are told from the perspective of women, the narrative sounds quite different.
Bathsheba
I. Bathing
night air scented
lavender and rose
massage my neck
rub my hands
along my thighs
my husband will not be home
anytime soon
close my eyes
smell him near
see his eyes shine
for me imagine
his hands
everywhere
II. Summons
first time inside
the palace
veiled
unknown I watch
the servants barely
notice me
washed and oiled roughly
dressed in jewels
worth more
than everything I have
I begin to understand
why I am here
David seems smaller
kinder than I thought
my body opens
to his kisses
betrays me again
and again with pleasure
I could be killed for this mutiny
in my mind strange
hands everywhere
III. Return
thrust
into my clothes
thrust
into the street
find my way
home alone
by the fire
refuse food
refuse bathing
refuse everything I can
the stench
of him remains
punish this body
IV. Pregnancy
strip
burn clothes
bathe
take bread
wine
begin to live
as betrayer
another body
shapes itself in me
as if a miracle
occurred
V. Husband
I long to tell him everything
even though he
will be wild with war
wait by the fire
all night
two nights
he never comes
does he know
VI. Death
bite my tongue
see if I can feel
watched every moment
I am not quick
or strong enough
to strip off this life
death scooped out
my insides
buried them with him
Uriah
I am only skin
and hair wrapped
around air
and the child
VII. Queen
loathing is dangerous
I’ll make my first
decree to end the war
in me who
is the enemy
his shame
his longing
mirror mine
oh Uriah
do not watch what I do
everything about the king
begs forgiveness
except his mouth
occupied on the mound
of our son
VIII. Fever
sack
ashes
we pray
this small tangle
of blankets
his body
hangs on him
like thin bags of sand
each day we wait
shuffles
whispers
a kingdom
holds
its breath
IX. Burial
why not
take me
why punish
innocence
his future
once spread
along my mind now burned
before his time
there is not enough
room in me
for so much sorrow
X. Birth
will this one
also
be taken
or may his name
Solomon
save him
XI. Coronation
Who would have thought
this body
loved
adulterous
abandoned
would bring one king
into it
bring another
king out
a nation once teetered
at my breasts