Miriam settled down among the women
as they brushed the sand out of the folds of cloth
and combed it from their loosened hair.
Then the chattering of the timbrels
and the whooping of the public song
stuttered into silence
as she told the real tale.
Midwives, mothers, sisters,
and the daughter of a Pharaoh
conspiring,
not to save a nation,
but for one small child
squalling in the reed beds.
One living,
and so many drowned.
And her words,
covered by the drifting sand
linger deep beneath the surface,
to be tapped by those who have the will to dig.
Jan 7th 96
Exodus 15.20-21
1 Timothy 2.11-12
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