"Will I Discover a Soul-Saving Love...?"

[psalm_onethirtyone]

And here, at long last, is my yuletide fic. >_>

Title: Thou art the star for which all evening waits
Fandom: The Bible
Characters/Pairings: Benjamin, Joseph, Reuben, Judah, Simeon, Levi, Naphtali, Jacob, Asenath
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU. Benjamin stays with his captor in Egypt instead of returning to Canaan.
Notes: For innervoice_chan for yuletide!

This fic borrows heavily from various midrashim in addition to the Old Testament, and as a result there are probably some anachronisms (as well as the fact that, well, the midrashim don't necessarily match up with each other, so if you've read ones that are different from the ones I've read it's all just going to look ridiculous. I hope you don't mind!). Also, despite utilising my ninja powers as a religious studies major, I could not find a name for Benjamin's wife, and for that I apologise.

The title is from a poem by George Stirling.

I am fifteen years old when my brothers take me into the land of
Egypt. My father believes I will die there; he weeps and tears his
clothes and tells my brothers, "Surely you will bring my grey head
down to the grave in sorrow." My brothers answer him, "Unless you
permit this thing, surely we will all die, you and your sons and our
children." My brothers cannot return to the land of Egypt for grain
unless I am with them, and unless there is grain we will all
starve--me and my father and my brothers and my mother Rachel, who is
beautiful even though she is growing very old.

The land of Egypt is full of cities and buildings, not like the huge
wide plains where my brothers and I tend my father's flocks of sheep
and goats and cattle. In Canaan I guard the sheep and lambs; usually
they are fat and sleek, but now they are thin and ugly like the
homeless dogs in Egypt that snap at our donkeys, their lips drawn back
so I can see their teeth. The same famine that is upon us in Canaan is
in the land of Egypt.

My brothers bring me to the lord of the Egyptians, the lord who
distributes the grain. He is a tall and very handsome man, and my
brothers bow to him with their foreheads touching the floor, so I bow
also. Judah has his hand on my shoulder to hold me down, as if he
thinks I am a locust or a toad and will go springing up unwisely.
Reuben, who is the eldest of my brothers, tells the lord, "Here we
are. We have brought our brother, Benjamin, whom our father loves."
Me, he means--me.

The lord does not answer Reuben; he leaves and his steward returns to
us, saying, "Do not be afraid. My lord asks that you dine with him at
his house. I will bring you there."

For a moment I think Reuben will answer him. Reuben is headstrong and
opinionated and most likely to cuff me, and I have never seen him
without an answer to anyone. He has complained about this journey,
about the stubbornness of my father to make us wait so long and the
contrariness of the lord to make them bring me with them, and I think
that he will complain to the steward too, but he keeps his mouth
closed and nods quietly.

I have not been frightened before now, not truly, but I am now that
Reuben has been silenced. If this man is so strange that Reuben, of
all my brothers, is afraid, then I think there is reason to be afraid.
For the first time I wish I were at home with my beautiful mother, who
is always waiting for me when I bring in the sheep.

When we arrive at the entrance to the lord's house Judah and Levi go
to the steward and say, "Please, we have brought silver for the grain,
and silver because of the money that was given back to us when we came
before, and we didn't know that the money was given back to us
before." My gut quivers within my body; Levi is the fiercest of my
brothers, who does not say 'please' to any man.

But the steward tells my brothers, "Do not be afraid. The God of your
fathers has rewarded you. I received your money the first time you
came."

Then he brings Simeon out to us.

Simeon is the twin of Levi, my fiercest brother, and they are most
often my father's hunters. They disappear into the plains and return
with lions and wind-footed deer. When Simeon comes out to us, Levi
drops to his knees and holds out his arms, saying, "Truly the God of
our father Israel is merciful to me, for he has given my brother back
to me; truly I am fortunate among men, for my brother who was lost is
found again." O God! Proud, fierce-hearted Levi is weeping, and Simeon
is weeping too, their arms around each other.

Did my father weep so for me? I do not know, and I hide behind
Naphtali, my hand clenched in his robes. He is young like me, and has
the sweetest tongue. Naphtali puts his hand on top of my head.

"Don't be afraid. Surely the God of our father Israel will be as
merciful with Judah as he has been with Levi, and you will return
safely with us."

Meanwhile the steward leads us inside the lord's house, and brings us
water to wash our feet, and grain for our donkeys. Judah and Reuben
prepare the gifts our father sent with us, and Simeon and Levi mind
the donkeys, slipping off together. Naphtali assures me they should be
left alone; "They have been long apart," he tells me, "and they must
grow back together where their roots were split."

Then the lord comes in, brusque and handsome in his white Egyptian
clothes. Instead of long robes, like my brothers and I, he wears a
short skirt and much gold, in his ears and on his arms and legs and
around his neck; he carries a golden staff set with blue stones. My
brothers bow to him, and once again Judah pushes down my head, as if I
were not old enough to know that we must respect the lord.

"How is your father you told me about? Is he still living?" His voice
is cool and compelling, like the voice of the rabbi, and I wonder how
people pray in Egypt. I know he is not a Hebrew, but do the Egyptians
have men like rabbis who lead them and teach them about God our God?

"Your servant our father is alive and well," Reuben says, speaking for
all my brothers.

The lord looks over us, all bowing before him, and his eyes halt on
me, studying me. My bowels and my heart both jump.

"Is this your youngest brother, of whom you told me?" He comes to me
and goes down on one knee, saying, "God be gracious to you, my son."
Then his eyes cloud and he springs to his feet, rushing from the room.

At once my brothers are in an uproar, standing and saying, "Why has he
left? What has offended him?" and Simeon and Levi return from the
stable, saying, "What has happened? Has the lord refused us?" There is
so much commotion that no one sees me go after the lord, and he
himself does not see me follow him down the hall. He ducks into a
room, and I stop at the door, watching him from around the frame.

He is a stern and imposing man, and has frightened my brothers, but I
am not so frightened of him any more; I stand in his door and watch
him weeping on his bed, his brown shoulders shaking like the sides of
a frightened lamb. It may be that he is the most powerful man in the
land of Egypt, but when he weeps he sounds like my mother. The sigh of
his tears in his throat are exactly like hers.

Then he rises, and I can see that he will turn towards the door, so I
run back to the room where my brothers are. Reuben cuffs me for having
gone missing, but there is more anger in it than usual, and his brown
face is pale. In a moment the lord reappears and instructs his steward
to serve us.

We cannot sit with the Egyptians, but he sits with us anyway. He seats
my brothers in the order of their age, from eldest to youngest, which
frightens Judah; Judah's face is also pale, and he speaks briefly, his
voice as brittle as ashes. When we are served, I have more to eat and
more to drink than any other man.

My brothers want to remark on it, but they don't. They are quiet and
reserved, but the steward keeps bringing wine, and soon they are all
laughing and talking like they do at home when we bring the flocks in.
Although I have the biggest portion of wine, I do not drink, because I
want to know why the lord is treating me the way he is. I have heard
from other Canaanites that Egyptians are freer with their affections,
and that some Egyptians keep boys to make love to. If this is what he
desires, for my brothers to bring me here so he can keep me, he is
mistaken (I think this to myself with very foolish pride), for I shall
return to my father in Canaan.

He watches me all through dinner, his smooth face intent and his dark
eyes curious. I try not to imagine what would happen if he made me his
slave, what it would feel like to have his smooth official's hands
trace over my body, to be laid back upon the linen sheets of his bed.
I give thanks to God when dinner is finally over and we are sent to
our rooms. My brothers are drunk, but at least it is safe to sleep
with Naphtali, who puts his arm around my waist and holds me to him
like a child or a wife, snoring very softly in my ear. Still, I am
frightened, and it is a long time before I fall asleep.

I give another prayer to God when we are allowed to leave the next
morning. The lord gives us back our donkeys, laden with grain, and my
brothers, complaining about their heads, lead us out of the city. We
travel I think three hours--I cannot tell, the time passes like
moments--before we hear the sound of a horse's feet, and the lord's
steward overtakes us. He jumps down from his horse, reining her in
hard. My brothers begin to whisper among themselves. Even before he
speaks, Dan takes hold of Judah's sleeve and whispers, "Brother, he is
going to accuse us of some thing. Has he not already accused us of
being spies and demanded our brother Benjamin as proof that we are
not? Be alert, Judah."

I feel the blood in my heart run thinner as the steward approaches us.

"Why have you repaid good with evil?" he cries to my brothers. "Isn't
this the cup my master drinks from, and also the one he uses for
divination? Why have you done this wicked thing?"

My brothers Simeon and Levi growl like lions, like lions with their
fur rising from anger, but Judah silences them with his hand. "How can
you say such things?" he asks the steward. "Far be it from your
servants ever to do such a thing. We even brought back from the land
of Canaan the silver we found in our sacks. So why should we take
silver or gold from your master's house? If it is found among our
possessions, let the one who has it die, and the rest of us will
become your master's slaves."

"Very well, let it be so. But whoever is found to have the cup, let
him become my master's servant; the rest of you will be free from
blame."

We each search through our donkey's sacks and bundles, heavier with
grain but lighter of the presents we brought for the lord. My
brothers, one after another, find their sacks empty, but when I open
mine I see a glint of silver. At first I think of pushing it further
down into the grain and hoping no one has seen, or perhaps taking it
out and hiding it in my robes. But the steward sees the shining of the
sun on the lord's cup and cries out.

My brothers tear their clothes and beards, and Simeon and Levi whisper
loudly to Judah of slaying the steward; Naphtali tries to talk
reasonably to him, and Dan says that it is not my fault, I am a child.
As for me, what can I think? My bowels and my heart are as unsteady as
water from a spring. The lord is determined to have me for his slave,
and he has secured me through treachery. Who else would have done such
a thing? And for what purpose?

O God my God, I pray. O God of my father Israel. Deliver me from this
man who wishes for my body and would take me away from my flocks in
Canaan. O God, deliver me.

But my brothers load their sacks back onto their donkeys, and follow
the steward back to the city in Egypt. When we arrive at the lord's
house, they fall to the floor before him, begging for mercy, but I
cannot do so. I feel as though I am the only real man in the world, as
though everyone else were made of stone tablets without thoughts or
hearts written onto their stone bodies. The lord barters with my
brothers for me, but all I can think of are my sweet flocks in Canaan.
I shall never tend my sheep again.

O God, God of my father Israel. I will never see my mother again, or
have any memento of her, unless this lord weeps; the sound of his
weeping is the only thing I will ever have to remind me of my mother.
O God, I will make him weep.

I suppose I cannot take much longer than the flight of a spear to
think these things, but I feel as though I have been standing in this
lord's hall for years, and I feel as though I am steady and still as a
deer standing without movement, trying to fool a hunter. But when the
lord raises his eyes from Reuben to look at me, I bolt like one of my
own sheep, fleeing through the corridors.

Our houses in Canaan are all tents. We move around, carrying our homes
with our tabernacle, following our herds and flocks. The Egyptians'
homes are solid, made of sand and stone, with many halls and many
rooms with strange paintings on the walls and statues of strange gods
whose names I do not know. I cannot think enough to look at any of
them clearly; I see wings and horns and crowns, idols with the heads
of animals and the hands of men. I cannot even hear the sound of
anyone pursuing me, only the pounding of my sandals on the stone floor
of the corridors. I cannot think; that is why I fall down the stairs,
although for a moment I think my robes will hold me up and I will fly
like a woven-winged bird. Instead I fall hard against the wall at the
bottom of the stairs, and feel a crack through my whole body that I
think begins in my shoulder, and there I lie weeping like the child I
am.

The lord does not take very long to find me. He kneels down beside me,
cradling my head in his lap. "O God, Benjamin," he says, stroking my
hair. "God of my father Israel." His steward arrives a moment later,
breathless, and he shouts, "Find my physician, find the Pharaoh's
physician! My brother is hurt and I am wounded by it, I am wounded in
my innermost heart."

I cannot think, I do not understand what he is saying. He lifts me,
letting me lean my head against his shoulder, and kisses my cheeks,
and I can feel from this that he is weeping again. "O God," he says.
"I have found my brother again and now he lies bleeding. O God my God
forgive me, for I put him in danger for my pride's sake and I have
hurt him." He brushes blood from my lips with his hand and says, "O
God, Benjamin."

Then the physician comes, and what happens then I do not know, and for
a long time I do not know anything at all. When I wake again, the lord
is by my bedside, his elbows propped on his knees and his hands
folded, watching me.

"Where are Reuben and Judah?" I ask him. "Where are Simeon and Levi?"

"Your brothers have lived in my house. I have given my house to your
brothers until you became well again."

"How was I hurt?"

"Your shoulder was broken, but my physician set it. As for the rest,
it will leave no mark." His hand falls to my unhurt shoulder. "Your
father will not know that harm has come to you on that account."

"Why have you done this?" I ask. My shoulder aches, and my head aches
too, for I remember what he said when I had fallen, and he held me at
the bottom of the stairs. I cannot imagine why this Egyptian, who is
as brown as any Egyptian man, calls my father Israel his father also.

"You are like my brother who was lost to me." His eyes are already
clouded again, and I think he is going to weep--I have never met a
grown man who wept so much. At least this time I hope he will not run
out of the room again. I am too tired to think about following him.
"When he was a boy, he went to meet his brothers while they tended
their flocks and herds, but he was set upon and killed, and I do not
know where his body lies, though I think it is in Egypt. You have eyes
like my brother's, and your face is like his."

"Will you let me go? My father swears to my brothers that if I die it
will bring his grey head down to the grave in sorrow."

"I cannot let you go," the lord says. "My steward found my silver in your sack."

"I was not the one who put it there!"

I try to sit up, but his hand pushes me down, and he says, "Softly, my
brother, softly."

"I was not the one! I swear on the God of my father Israel, you put
that cup in my sack to keep me here with you. I know that Egyptians
are deceitful and lustful like lions, but I will not be your slave to
satisfy you!"

I close my mouth tightly, because instead of weeping, he is suddenly laughing.

"Lustful? Do you think I wish to keep you here to make you one of my wives?"

"I know that is how it is done in Egypt," I say, and my voice is
sullen like a child's.

"No. You are my brother who was lost."

"I am my brothers' brother! You are a stranger to us."

His face becomes solemn again, and he stands. When he is outside of
the room, I can hear the sound of my mother's weeping behind the door,
except that it is not my mother, it is him, and he will not let me go.

The next time he comes he tells me, "Your brothers have left. They did
not take their grain, only their donkeys, and they gave me no word
that they were leaving. Do you think they have run away?"

My head is sick and I feel hot all the time, but I say, "They will
return. My brothers will return for me."

"Truly I tell you I think they have left you here." He dips a linen
cloth in a bowl of cool water and bathes my face and my chest with it.
It feels so good, like food after a day of work, like night coming on
after the long days in summer. It feels so good that tears fall from
me, and I grit my teeth so he won't know.

He comes every day to me, more than once a day sometimes, to care for
me. Sometimes I know, and sometimes he has to tell me because I don't
remember. The physician says I have an ague that crept into my body
through my shoulder; he puts idols in my room as well as giving me
foul medicine, and they watch me when I try to sleep. Once I forget
myself and sob on the Egyptian lord, begging him to take them away.

He tells the physician that because I am Hebrew Egyptian gods will not
protect me, and the next hour they disappear. After that it is just
the medicines, and the lord by my bedside, combing back my sweaty hair
with his fingers and washing my body with clean water. Thus it is day
after day until I am well again.

I can tell when that day comes because I wake up and can think again,
and because I am so hungry I feel I could eat all the grain in Egypt.
The lord laughs and has food brought for me, roasted meat and a little
wine, which he is afraid will upset my guts, but does not. He watches
me while I eat.

"Truly I tell you I am glad to see you well. I was frightened."

"God watches me."

"I think He does," he says softly.

Now that I am well I am allowed to walk all over his house, in all of
the rooms. He has a pretty young wife whose name is Asenath, and two
sons who are babies, Manasseh and Ephraim. They are barely nine and
seven, and Manasseh has nothing to talk about except his new hunting
dog. He is so full of pride I cannot stand him.

I follow the lord. During the day he does work for the Egyptian king,
called Pharaoh, taking charge of hearing many of his petitions, and
measuring out the grain that is to be distributed. Many of Egypt's
animals have died, and he meets with tradesmen to buy new cattle and
sheep and to arrange for their keeping. When he is not working, we
speak often; he asks all about how I grew up, and my father Israel,
and my mother. I ask him whether Egyptians have men like rabbis, and
he says yes.

One night he teaches me astrology. He tells me that his great honours
from the Pharaoh are due to his wisdom in reading the stars and the
dreams of other men. He shows me how to use an astrolabe and tells me
what the stars mean.

"They do not write in Hebrew, nor in Egyptian," he tells me. "It is a
new language, and I will teach it to you."

At first I think he is a fool; I think that it is only the kind of
thing magicians have to show, tricks and lies. But when he asks me
questions, I find the answers in the sky. The stars are clustered like
little sheep; they scatter like sheep frightened by a lion. Just as I
can tell what the sheep need, I can understand what the stars signify.

"Will you look for something for me?" he asks one night, while we
stand outside the house, looking up at the sky.

"What should I seek?"

"My brother who is lost--will you look for him?"

My heart aches. We stand outside his fine stone house, in the
prosperity of his house, where he keeps two sons and a wife, but he is
looking at me and his dark clouded eyes are solemn. I wonder what it
is like to hold so to the past.

"Why can you not seek him yourself?"

The lord clasps his hands behind his back and lifts his head to gaze
at the stars. "I cannot read dreams or stars any longer. God gave me
that power, but he has taken it away."

"Why did you teach me? How did you know I would understand?"

"Because God watches you. Benjamin, look for my brother."

So I do. I look for hours, but all that I am told is that his brother
is in Egypt--that his brother is in the city in Egypt, and that is
all. When I apologise to him, he rests his hand on my shoulder.

"God has given you a gift."

"But I can't find him for you."

"You are a true diviner."

"I found nothing."

"I say unto you, you are a diviner and you read the language of the
stars. Some day I will have no secrets from you, but this is not that
day. Keep studying."

"I will."

I do. The lord goes about his work for Pharaoh, and I watch the sky.
Asenath treats me as though I am the lord's brother, and even Manassah
seems more tolerable.

Then one day my brothers come back again, and they bring my father with them.

Asenath wakes me early in the morning, before the sun comes up. Her
cool brown hands shake my shoulders.

"Benjamin. Wake up."

"What is it?" I ask, sitting up in my bed and wiping my eyes.

"Your brothers have brought your father to plead with
Zaphenath-Paneah," she says (this is the titled name of the lord,
given to him by the Pharaoh. Asenath knows his real name, but she will
not tell me; she says it is not hers to tell me, and I will not know
until the lord chooses). My bowels and my heart start to tremble as
they have not since my brothers left me in Egypt.

"Wait, wait, I must bring you to him," Asenath says, but I have
already sprung to my feet, and I run down the corridor towards the
great hall where the lord receives petitioners. This is the hall where
my brothers and I were led when I first came to Egypt.

The lord is already there, and all of my brothers are bowing on the
floor, and O God, my God, my father Israel is on his knees. He is so
old and gaunt I cannot understand at first how he can be my father; I
know him, but he looks like a man who has withstood the worst of all
things. The lord does not stop me from falling to the floor beside him
and taking him into my arms. O God of my father! he is so thin.

"Benjamin?" he whispers in my ear. His arms encircle me like another robe.

I remember how Levi fell to the ground and opened his arms to Simeon.
I remember how they wept, and how Levi cried out, "Truly the God of
our father Israel is merciful to me!" God has not been merciful to my
father.

"Forgive me," I say to him, holding him as close as I dare. I am
afraid I will crush him like a dry husk of grain. What if he crumbles
in my arms and there is nothing left of him but a few scattered pieces
of grass? "Forgive me. I have been here all along. I am not lost."

"You are not lost." He repeats it like a child, but I am the one who
only turned sixteen a week ago. He touches my face with one hand,
feels the curve of my nose and the sockets of my eyes, and runs his
thumb across my lips. "Benjamin, my son. Truly my God is merciful to
me." Then his voice cracks, like a badly-fired pot on a stone floor.
"O Benjamin, your mother Rachel weeps every day while she goes about
her work. When she sleeps in the night she weeps."

It feels like the worst thing in the world to turn away from him to
the lord, but I do, I take a great breath and turn away. The lord is
watching us, but I know from the way his calves are taut that he wants
to run into the corridor, he wants to weep openly as we are.

"No!" I cry, as he starts to turn. "Zaphenath-Paneah! Lord of Egypt!
You have as much power as the Pharaoh; surely you are as powerful as
the king. Send me home with my brothers. You have been kind to me;
truly I do not understand who you are or what you ever wanted with me,
but you have been kind, and for my sake--" I catch my breath, as he
stands staring at me. "For the sake of your brother who was lost, let
me not be lost to mine. Give my brothers their grain without tricks or
hostages, and send me home with my father, send me back to my mother
and my sheep. For the sake of your brother."

Then the lord begins to weep in front of us all. He is as free in his
tears as any child, and it shocks me to be reminded of how he sounds
like my mother Rachel. His tears come forth with the voice of my
mother.

My father's arm tightens around me. "Joseph?"

"O God, God of my father Israel," the lord says, wiping his eyes with
one brown arm. "I am Joseph."

"My son Joseph?"

He kneels with us, bowing his head to the ground, until it touches the
stone floor. My father puts his hand on the lord's head. "My son
Joseph who was lost to me?"

"I am not lost, father."

Behind us I hear Judah saying, "O God, is it Joseph?" and Levi, "is it
Joseph?" and then Asher and Naphtali ask, "is it Joseph? God of our
father, it is Joseph who was sold into Egypt." Even shy Issacar is
saying, "He weeps like Joseph. It is Joseph."

The lord takes my father's hand and kisses it, and then my father
begins to weep anew, and we are all weeping now, not just my father
and Joseph but me too, and my brothers too, even Reuben. I think
Reuben is perhaps the worst.

"I came to Egypt to find one son, and I found both who were lost," my
father says. "I came seeking one lamb, and found two. O my children,
all my children. Let me gather you to me; I was a shepherd with a
dwindling flock, but now all my sheep are with me."

My father gathers us both into his arms, holding us close to his
breast. Joseph's black hair is pressed against my cheek, and I can
smell the kohl from his eyes and the oils on his skin, and I
think--although perhaps it is only my imagination--that I can smell
Canaan on him also. It has been so long since I was in Canaan. When I
left I was a child, and now I think I may be a man, though I do not
know what it means to say so. I only know that my heart is weary but
my shoulders feel very light, and my brother's body is near mine, and
I wish for my home.

I was fifteen years old when my brothers brought me into the land of
Egypt, and I am nearly seventeen when my family settles there. It is
not a great time to have passed. I do not think I will ever see Canaan
again, although I am not bound to live here. Egypt does not have the
same wide plains as Canaan, and I have no sheep to tend, no flocks to
herd through the brief grass. Sometimes it makes me laugh; for Joseph
was the brother thought to have been lost, and he was found, and truly
I was thought to be lost, and I was found. Even when I feel lost in
the midst of Egypt, my brothers and their families surround me.

Even I have a quiet wife, a sister of Asenath who is older than me.
The Pharaoh makes me an astronomer, and Joseph gives me the silver cup
that was the cause of my father coming to Egypt--with this and my
astrolabe I divine what is in the stars.

I see that one day we will no longer be welcome in Egypt, and the time
will come when we must flee back to Canaan. I see that it will change
us for-ever, with rules and rituals, and for a few days I wondered
whether I should tell Joseph or my father Israel, and lead us out of
Egypt before that day comes.

But I do not, for that is not what the stars say, and it is not what
God says. Besides, there is no need for astronomers in Canaan. Joseph
was right: God is watching me. When I stand outside the house with my
hands clasped behind my back, alone as a shepherd in the midst of the
plains, kept company only by my wandering herds of stars, I know that
I also am watching God.

Thereupon I am never lost.

Comments

[http://users.livejournal.com/_grayswandir_/]

This is unbelievably beautiful. There are so many stories from the Bible that I would love to see told this way -- not in a handful of verses, but in full, with all the character and emotion that properly belong to them but that are all too easily overlooked, since the stories are so brief and myriad. I love the style you chose: very Old Testament, very sober, and yet somehow very intimate. The present tense worked well, too. And I loved the refrain of "I am fifteen years old when my brothers take me into the land of Egypt"/"I was fifteen years old when my brothers brought me into the land of Egypt" -- it's such a simple and elegant way of introducing the conclusion and making the story feel whole, almost circular, as though some necessary thing has been completed. The conclusion with Benjamin seeing into the future is wonderful too.

And, not to turn this into something it was never meant to be, or weird you out with my excessive praise or anything, but I have to wonder if there would be a market for a collection of stories like this. I feel like there would. It's just -- I almost never read fanfic at all anymore, and frankly I think most online writers are unreadable hacks with embarrassing delusions of adequacy, but I've got to tell you, I would pay money for collections of your poetry, or pieces like this one, and I don't think I'm alone. You do wonderful work.

[reconditarmonia.livejournal.com]

eee, midrash! ^__^