Pushed you from me in Moab
with my left, while with my right I drew you.
After the deaths, this widow did not expect
the flinging sync of your attachment.
These dried hands both drive you hence,
not now in rejection, but in light of added realms,
for seeing kindled the will of Hashem,
you are that binah daughter, rare.
Thus the Sh’chinah reveals her tikkun olam:
She, gleaning barley in Beit-Lechem!
Here is how to vow now evening lowers:
Get you bathed, perfumed; head to the threshing-floor.
There remove his sandals – ask his cloak
over you in his barn of harvest.
Sleep there through night to dawn.
He is a near kinsman, his God my God
your God; for you are proof of more
than one exception in the law:
having yourself, effaced, held fast to me
even at my rebuff when I had
in my wake only wind and sand – and you,
had haven to turn to, but abandoned…
Though Hashem has dealt me vinegar,
I can point you to a sweet lasting wine.
A crux of paths form from these directives.
some ways ahead her as she leaves:
what is it portends she gives to me,
straightway, her own very child from her womb?