The Exodus of Israel
The cock-crow hour greets the departed one.
She, with vista lids of a world so welcoming, so free,
avidly hastened into the far-flung, uncertain desert sun.
Nailed to that well-worn, well-known porch that once had sheltered her;
doted on her aching feet, her father watched on.
His precious gift, His soigné, was a woman now and had left His arms behind.
All He possessed were those accreted frames of a wide-smiling girl,
a budding, maturing rose he once had tended to and adored.
With a tear He thought of the tales he’d tell of that wide-smiling,
now wide-world gazing, girl
and drastically groped the hope that she would return
to the home where she was sown.
His precious gift, His blessed soigné,
to whom His love would be infinitely shown.