Tamar's Name

My aunt’s name was rarely mentioned.

All I knew of the

reclusive woman I was named for

was that she used to wear

colorful robes.

Anytime I asked about her,

my father’s face clouded over and

he told me to forget it.

 

I.

She was beautiful.

Young, and impossibly

beautiful.

It should have been impossible to touch her.

II.

Amnon her brother –

her half-brother –

was consumed

by a sick, twisted love for her.

III.

He knew he couldn’t

have her.

But nobody told him

he shouldn’t.

IV.

When he called her over

to bake for him,

she was wary –

but every woman bakes.

V.

So, she made the cake,

and he closed the door.

She knew it was too late

to reverse the clock.

VI. 

She begged him to think of King David

as a bid for time,

for a pause of conscience

in this violent passion play.

VII.

She was desperate.

Young, and impossibly

desperate.

But it was impossible to stop him.

VIII.

Her brother –

her half-brother –

was sick

with hatred for her after he was done.

IX.

She was banished. She tore

her once radiant robes

until they were only dull tatters,

hoping her father would redeem her name.

X.

It was to no avail.

The king loved

his firstborn

more than he loved his daughter.

XI.

Absalom her brother –

her full-brother –

silenced her cries

to plot his bitter revenge.

XII.

She was left

desolate and exiled,

alone in her room, shamed,

wondering what she did wrong.

XIII.

She stopped fighting,

forfeiting her future

for a past

that was never her fault.

XIV.

The king mourned

the loss of his sons

when Absalom killed Amnon,

but never mourned for what his daughter lost.

XV.

Only she remembered.

Only she felt the pain of being discarded.

Only she gave up her dreams.

Only she felt forgotten.

XVI.

Her name was never restored,

and she retreated to Absalom’s house

all thoughts of justice

abandoned.

XVII.

She joined her family once,

when her namesake was born.

They called the girl beautiful

and she wondered if her story would repeat itself.

XVIII.

She was innocent.

Young, and impossibly

innocent.

It was impossible to give that back.

 

When the time came

for me to don the elegant woven tapestry

representing the innocence

that could so easily be stolen,

I vowed to never forget her.

My future sons

would know the importance of my name

and they would not abuse their power.

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