Rahab

Enough Rope (Rahab)

In the wall, you’ll find my place
Here I meet every desire
You can leave without a trace
So my story may inspire.

Here the place to comfort spies
Lonely from ongoing war
Tell my tales and form my lies
Bring your coin – I’d not be poor.

Soldiers come to find you out
Searching with platoon of guard
Hide up top and mind my shout
Keeping quiet won’t be hard.

Do not think I am a maid
Naivety has no place here
This working girl must be paid
Lest betrayal leads to fear.

As I save your sorry arse
Note I want my own reward
Do not try your words to parse
Witness my claim on your Lord.

I will help you to get free -
You must promise to be brave.
Your commitment’s not just for me
But all my family’s lives to save.

Make your vow and check what’s said
When walls do fall and battle’s won
We won’t be among the dead
When invasion has been done.

(Rahab – Joshua 2)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Asaneth

Date Evangelism - Asaneth’s story

(Daughter of Potipherah, who was Pharoah’s Counsellor. She was given to Joseph by Pharoah and bore two sons: Manasseh and Ephraim. “Jospeh and Aseneth” is an apocryphal expansion on the Genesis story.)

Asaneth
In courts of business and of prayer,
I lift my glance and blessings share.
My beauty publicly adorns
The sacrifices brought each morn.

Acclaimed I am for face and frame.
For goddess worship I am named.
Shield-maiden priestess of the land
I gift the water to the sand.

Potipherah
Gentle maiden – daughter dear…
Our Pharoah brings your wedding near.
You are to stand a Joseph’s side
You will become his gifted bride.

Joseph
Haughty maiden! Cast your arrows down!
Remove from your brow the idol’s red crown.
No longer wear the signs on your dress
Of the warrior Neith – Egyptian goddess.

To my troth comes the time to take on a new life
Share my bed if you will, but to be my wife
It is not enough with me to lie
First you must worship the Lord Adonai.

Renounce the ways of Egypt’s deities.
Turn to Yahweh in your piety.
Make my heart and soul your own
As I make Egypt my home.

Asaneth
How can this be? My world is torn.
Would I another into new life be born?
Now to Yahweh should I turn?
No longer make Naith’s offerings burn?

What is this warrioress’ defeat
That I should discard and deplete
All I have valued and have known
Now that this new Lord is shown?

My would-be husband gives his sign
That his religion should be mine.
An act of faith to pray this way
And enter into this new day.

(Asanath = Daughter of Neith.  Neith was an early goddess in the Egyptian pantheon.)

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Lydia

Lydia – the inked lady

Stained my fingers, palms and wrists,
Hues soaked in from inky vats.
My business funds the faith of many,
Hope and promise, gladly shared.
Praised by people and Apostle
We cannot know the life we birth.
For centuries, this Asia Minor,
Will sing the songs we teach them now.
How many generations follow?
Reading our mail and telling our tale?
How many will take their fabrics of colour
To teach of the seasons and learn of the Way?
Return on investment – not yet to be seen,
But in gathered disciples in Heaven they’ll be.
Let the ink seep into my skin,
Like the writing of names into my being.
Let unknown names be written within
So I may bear witness with clouds to them.


© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Samaritan Woman

Woman of Sychar

Between the mountains of curses and blessings
We hold the memory of prophets and kings.

I follow the footsteps of Dinah’s shaming
To draw water for cooking and washing small-things.

Like Dinah, the men in my life led to naming
That I could not wed a husband of mine.

Yet lonely I’m not for I live with another
I survive with whoever is there at the time.

For such is the life of Samaria’s woman
That during the day I would go to the well.

I am met and conversed with – by a Messiah!
My story he details and chooses to tell.

We joust with our words in long repartee -
A dialogue given for many to comment.

His wisdom and care lightens my spirit.
Somehow I know I am called to speak out.

I run into town to tell all and sundry –
Here is good news – let there be no doubt.

I follow Him now – and will do so forever
Join with me in song – Join with me to shout:

Hosanna! Hosanna! The Lord is come!

(Samaritan Woman at the Well – John 4)  

© 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Bityah

Bityah - Daughter of God

Worship the Sun-God – Pharoah of Egypt.
Father to me – I am his female child.
Nameless hero – correction: heroine.
Hand my costume to your Sunday School girls.
Princess Divine – I claim my place in story.
Princess Nameless – echoes in the silence
of halls where princesses have no names.
Shall God’s children remain un-named, un-called, un-recognised?
Who will endow me with a name?
A husband, perhaps?
Or not if I bring with me an adopted Jewish babe.
So Midrash tries Bat-YAH (Daughter of – God).
Does naming mean welcome or exile?
And from which God?

Life came to me, not of my womb
But found among the waters’ reeds.
Love came to me, not of romance
But found in compassion’s warm embrace.
Light came to me, not of my initiation
But given of women who risked all they had.
Woman to woman, we work around the world
Finding ways to find the path to bypass obstacles.
Woman to woman, we see life in innocents
And do not privilege those who would cast them out.

Through decades and millennia,
Such children will be murdered.
They will suffer and die from intent or neglect.
As slaves, exiles, refugees, women can take risks for them.

Nameless, all such women may find in Wisdom’s comforting
Solace for tears when children are distressed.
Nameless, each Advocate can bear the Spirit’s will
Into blessing and restoration of such little ones.

Bless the countless nameless nanas, aunties, sisters, minders…
slaves, dames and princesses who care.
Bless them each and all as they see with woman’s eyes
Give them vision deep within their soul.

(Pharoah’s daughter)

(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Orpah

Orpah's Song - The Other Widow

[Aayeee! Aaaughaa!]

My silent cries within
Are held in check.
I have no place or position to wail and weep.

Oh Mahlon, why have you left my bed
To sleep with those who cannot bear?
What comfort do you find there?

Oh Mother - not of my birth, but of my right
And kinship claim,
Do not desert me. Do not leave.

The mother of my childhood sent me to you.
You are the Mother who taught me womanhood.
Do not cut me off from my only comfort.

Oh Sister Ruth - you cannot leave!
We came together, shunned by all
To marry these strange others.
You are my link to life.

And so, they leave...
All whom I have loved...
Left me alone in a Land called home
But with no heart.

So, now I remain,
A stranger
A foreigner
A widow
No-one

(The Book of Ruth)

(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Hagar

Woman in the wilderness

Hagar

Her laughter echoes in the silence of desert air.
Her curse rests on my tired frame.
I am resigned to rest and not awake again
for living has been left among the goats and sheep.
I carry only a sharp knife that might slit another’s throat.
Such inconceivable sacrifice! A welcome act for us.
No cairn, nor laden wood, is set for honouring our deaths.
Our carcasses will simply act as finders’ feast.

He’ll claim, “Yahweh – stayed my hand.”
But I do not await a voice.
No Master will speak to this mother’s ear.
I cannot bear the yearnings of the hungry child.
I move away to wait for sleep to come.

Singing voice – like angel touch –
Enters my awareness.
As chorus fills my being, I hear what must be done:
I move again to claim a promise
Of nations yet to be born.
My being - finds meaning - in creation’s promise.

(Genesis 16 and 21)

(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler

Canaanite

Canaanite 

I place a napkin on my lap.
'Twas embroidered by my Nan.
She made us all sit up for tea.
Ladies, we would sip and dunk.
Our conversation, chatter, noisily declared our place
in a world that disputed our right to be.
What does a tea-party look like in Palestine?
How cracked the china from the pesky explosions?
Woman in a world of violence…
Wife in a war of words…
Dogs gather beneath the table, longingly hoping for morsels.
Where is the generosity of gleanings left to be gathered?
Where is the possibility of hospitality and welcome?

I place a napkin on my lap
to catch the crumbs from the table.

(C) 2017, A.Koh-Butler