— The Laughter of Promise

The Lord visited Sarah
as dew visits the desert,
at the appointed hour,
written long ago
in the silence between the stars.

Her old womb opened
like a rose
after a hundred years of drought,
and a son was born:
Isaac,
laughter
blooming from the impossible.

On the eighth day
the covenant touched his flesh
like first light
touching a new leaf.

God has made laughter for me,
Sarah sang,
and all who hear
will laugh with me.

But on the day of the feast
a shadow crossed the table,
and Hagar and her son
were sent into the wilderness
with bread
and a skin of water.

In the desert of Beersheba
the water ran out.
She laid the boy beneath a shrub,
a small shadow
beneath a smaller shadow,
and wept a bowshot away.

But God heard the boy.

Ishmael,
God hears,
his name had always been a prayer.

Do not be afraid,
the angel called from heaven.
Lift him up.
Hold his hand.

Then God opened her eyes,
and she saw a well,
shining beneath the sand,
there all along,
waiting for eyes
washed clean by tears.

The boy grew
beneath the wide sky,
an archer
drawing lines of light
across the wilderness.

And at the Well of the Oath
Abraham planted a tamarisk,
its roots reaching for hidden water,
and called on the Everlasting God,
who was before the first sand
and will be after the last star.

Everlasting God,
fill my empty arms with laughter.
When I am lost in the wilderness,
hear the cry I cannot speak,
and open my tear-washed eyes
to the well already near.