Sunday, November 8, 2009


I loved him, once.
My father used my love
To snare him, and
Named his price of
100 Philistines.
He paid 200,
With a smile,
And my
Father was afraid.

I loved him, once,
When he held me
In his arms, when
Our love was one.
The night of the spear,
I eased him through
The window, to
Escape my father’s hate.
My father gave me
To another,
Breaking one contract
To forge another.

I loved him, once,
When he forced me back
To his household,
When he was king.

But that day,
That day the ark returned,
That day of processions
Of priests and lyres,
Of officials and clanging cymbals,
Of king in linen dancing
In the street,
That day I died.

I saw my husband, my
Lover, the one
Who took my father’s crown
For his own head,
I saw him dance,
Not as a king might
But as the drunken peasant
He was, with
The other peasants,
The other shepherds
Dancing with him.

That day,
Became shame
Became anger
Became fury
As cold as
Any sharp stone,
A jagged edge of hate.
My one desire was
To aim my father’s spear.

That day,
I let him see
My anger-flash,
My spit of contempt
With its tongued
Dagger point.

And now I sit
In this room,
Daughter of a king,
Wife of a king,
Surrounded by gold and
Fine cloth and
Wine and servants.
I sit in this place,
Waiting for his
Voice, his
Touch, his
No child I carry;
Only gall in my stomach.
I wait until I die.

But I loved him, once.


Maureen said...


I've re-read this several times this morning, each time feeling the building up of loss experienced through truth, resolved ultimately in the forgiveness carried in love.

Lines I particularly like: "My father used my love/To snare him", "Breaking one contract/To forge another", embarrassment "Became fury/As cold as/Any sharp stone,/A jagged edge of hate". "My spit of contempt/With its tongued/Dagger point" (this last creates for me an image of an asp). Your imagery has become very strong in this poem, the words' meanings multiplied.

Writing a poem like this, you let your talent shine.

Laura said...

This story has always captured my imagination. Michel's love was so passionate for David in the beginning...such passion is a fine line from irrationality, I think. I've often felt that she was insanely jealous. When David returned from his long exile with another wife. Was she angry that he never returned for her? That his passion for her did not equal hers for him? She was given to another man in marriage. Yet, her heart must have yearned for him to return and claim her.

Thanks for igniting my imagination once again, Glynn! A wonderful poem.

Anonymous said...

a lot to think about here. this woman's life that is different in many ways from our present life, and yet so much the same in the ways that we find other meanings for love, to fit our desires.

Kelly Sauer said...

oh gah. that just hurts. I know God included stories about people in Scripture, to make the point that the story is all about Him. But sometimes I wondery - WHY did it have to hurt so much, why did He let them make the choices they made for their lives?

She's right up there with Judas...

Don Kimrey said...

Glynn, I've seen your comments on the sites of some of our mutual friends and decided to pay you a visit. On my blog I've been studying what I've been calling God's Comeback Kids. Presently, I'm dealing with David and have only recently come again across the dowry which Saul asked for Michal's hand. David doubled the "asking price." You handled that crude exchange very delicately and with well chosen words. If you have time,you're welcome to drop by and see how I'm trying to deal with his fall and return. The site is:

Anne Lang Bundy said...

My fascination with this relationship grew into such a deep study of the life of David and his relationship with Saul that I was also compelled to write of it. Such musings propelled me into the world of publishing, and, progressively a blogger of biblical everything.

You've captured it in a most poignant manner.