To Asenath

Asenath, daughter of Potipherah,

Wife of Joseph, viceroy of all Egypt.

You were given in marriage

By no less than a directive of Pharoah,

*

Yet, for all of this

What do we know of you?

You’re ignored, layered in legend,

Relegated to a side note of history.

*

Hardly biotic, at best symbolic,

The things believed of you

Do not begin to explain

Your vital role, played behind the scenes.

*

Was there ever a conciliar decision reached

That did not bear your anonymous mark?

Great ideas conveyed by the viceroy,

The flowering fruits of blossoms whispered in your bed.

*

And what of those jealous Hebrew women?

Oh, how they tried to impugn your character.

Of small consequence, that, for you were strong.

The faithful wife. The loving mother.

*

Anyone watching Manasseh and Ephraim

Play at your feet, showered in your adoration,

Could not doubt your loyalty to family.

After all, had you not turned your back

*

On the religion of your father

For the sake of Joseph, for the sake of your marriage?

Those choosing to hector you could scarcely conceive

You were a sure anchor for their beloved Dream Reader,

*

Joseph, the only man you ever loved.

What a brawl when Pharaoh’s son sought you

For his own, conspiring with your husband’s brothers!

Deceit and manipulation might ferment in the hearts of others,

*

But not in the heart of Asenath. The hateful and the frivolous?

The petty domains of lesser women.

Yours was the comforting hand, the sympathetic ear.

Gently, but surely, you guided your family toward greatness.

*

Unassuming by nature, even in rule.

Equal to your husband in thought and intellect,

Nonetheless, eager to prepare a cutlet of veal

For his dinner, or those coconut candies that delighted the boys.

*

Matters of state were easily handled or dispatched.

Matters of the hearth required a firmer hand.

It’s been implied that you were mere window-dressing

In the tale of Joseph, the great Israelite.

*

If he could speak to us now, though, he would tell of a woman

That was integral to his life, to all that he was.

One that provided sound counsel and a sound home,

But those were not the things that mattered most.

*

He might relate how you enjoyed the sound of chimes in the breeze.

How you laughed with your sons, drawing shapes in the sand.

A polygon or hexagram or expanding circles.

Perhaps he would recall those rare, wonderful days

*

When the two of you would travel, pulling the boys in a dray,

To picnic along the banks of the majestic Nile,

Basking in the sun as if an empire did not depend on you.

Carefree for those few hours, conscious of no one but each other,

Interrupted by nothing more than the call of a kittiwake that strayed from the sea.