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I think I get it now
Stories aren’t over till they’re over
The meaning changes as the narrative unfolds
Ismail had to come before Ishaq
Hajar had to pass through my life
She was my trial and my crucible
I failed miserably
I put her out like a cat
with her helpless young
I forsook Hagar when she most needed me
But Ishaq came anyway,
to make me as ungainly as Hajar
and as vulnerable
to make my body plump and firm like hers
to remind me of her body and her moves
and of the sisterhood of pregnant women
Isaac came to play and replay
the Hagar film for me
Isaac came to squawk like Ishmael
When Ishmael kept us up nights
and I wished to God they’d both go away
I became the patient one like Hajar
and understanding welled up in me like milk
when Ishaq came like grace unbidden
Grace has this trick of coming unbidden:
This is cause for laughter
