Asenath

A poem about the son of Jacob and Rachel, Joseph, his wife Asenath, daughter to Potiphera, the high priest of On, in the reign of Djozer, Pharoah of Egypt. Stele suggest that Imhotep, the builder of the first hewn stone step pyramid, architect of the largest granary discovered in Egypt and later, himself high priest at On, was in fact Joseph. (Imhotep, cuneiform inscription translated, "Mouthpiece of I Am", or "The mouth for I Am", 'I Am' being the name the Almighty gave to Himself.

I.   Imprisoned

Like a once in a lifetime
new light in the skies,
brilliant in its ascendance,
majestic, sublime
portent to priestly eyes
and On's independence,
Potiphera saw him and knew
before spoken word or sign,
his successor had arisen,
unknown to himself. Few
emanating a benign
aura, recently prison
residents, had he observed
in pharaoh's company,
who could the future see,
speak it, nothing reserved,
and not appear to be
concerned for Egypt's mercy.

II.   Implausible

Incredible! He would not!
The pharaoh has not tossed
the loveliest of the land
between the Niles, forgot
this hidden treasure's cost,
at an inmate's command

to bow the knee, and play
for him the glowing wife!
What matter that he sees
a dream's portent that may
combine to save his life
and Egypt's too? Decrees

aside, unthinkable to wed
a prison shepherd, replete
with future dreams expounded,
Asenath was born, her bed
a pharaoh's son, to complete
what beauty has propounded.

III.   Imhotep

He is not a god, entreating,
nor I still a fool. Wisdom
that he speaks, neither man's
nor his, I Am competing
with no vizier's kingdom
of the wits, yet human hands

receive pyramid designs
of hewn stone, granaries
too huge to fill, perfection
politics, economic signs
and more, touching vagaries
of his bride to be, rejection

soon avid affirmation.
Imhotep, the mouth who speaks
for I Am, the One True God,
Joseph is, confirmation
in the deeds that I Am seeks
men see, paths to faith, well trod.

IV.   Immortality

Two sons I bore to Imhotep,
the pair unlike their father,
contumacious from the start,
disciplined to keep in step,
willfulness remains a bother
weighing on a mother's heart.

History will not forget
his many colored coat,
Potiphar, years imprisoned,
or when all Egypt was beset,
though famine children smote,
salvation, he envisioned.

Yet, history will be silent
of eminence that I knew...
the gentle touch, loving hand
of father, beloved who spent
cherished time, as oneness grew,
passion in primal command.