The mighty
commander of 900 iron chariots.
Escapes
alone
From the
carnage of the battlefield.
Stumbling in
exhaustion, he happens upon a tent.
An isolated
tent
Occupied by
a lone woman named Jael.
The woman
averts her eyes, feigning submissiveness.
Sisera
enters
With both
confidence and desperation.
Jael can
smell this strange mixture of emotions.
She is no
fool.
The nomadic
woman is more discerning than the commander.
“Oh, sir, please enter and I will hide you from your pursuers.”
A rug is spread,
He lies down and she covers him carefully, gently, reassuringly.
Before he drifts off, he asks for a drink of water.
She gives him milk
From an elegant vessel, she offers the refreshing liquid.
Fears allayed, the mighty man drifts off into a deep sleep,
Believing she stands
At the tent door guarding him, watching for his enemies.
His mind is dreamless, thoughtless.
He does not know that Jael
Is the enemy.
She stands at the tent door in watchfulness of him.
The depth of his slumber will only be pierced later
By the nail,
The tent peg, that Jael drives through his temple.
A sudden flash of brilliant, terrifying, painful light, he feels
Before darkness
Descends on his unsuspecting mind and his troubled soul.
The mighty has been brought down by the frail,
By hammer and nail,
In the hands of a lovely woman, the cunning Jael.
(From Judges 4 & 5)
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