(This poem takes place shortly after Jacob has worked for Laban for fourteen years and has finally received Rachel as his wife.  Leah has been married to Jacob for a little over seven years at this time.)

Oh, Jacob, husband—though that name

hardly seems fitting, for seven years

your body, at least, was all mine;

now all I have are these tears

and Rachel would have those too if she could.

In my girlhood days I thought I would never marry

for these heathen men disgust me, and I am glad

that it is a first-born son of your nation I carry.

I have veiled my face for you, Jacob,

so that other men do not defile it with their admiration,

and I worship your God freely now (unlike Rachel)

for I believe he will make you a powerful nation,

but you have turned away from me—big with child—

to Rachel again.

                        Why do you love her so much more?

Is it her shapeliness or bewitching eyes or duskier skin

that turns you to her at night?

                        What is it that lures

you to her so?  My father had to trick you

into taking me; but it was my female birth-right

to be first-wed, and still you resented that,

and in my arms it was Rachel you dreamed of all these nights.

It was a too-short seven-years-long honeymoon for me,

and a very bitter one, too, and yet I counted each day

as sacred, because I feared I had only these seven short years

until you won her and forever from me would turn away.

Yes, husband, I have heard of your exploits even here,

far away from your homeland: how you, the Grabber, stole

from Esau his birth-right and blessing and covenant.  And now

you are after mine; you would have me give my first wife's role

over to my younger sister. 

Perhaps it is a sign of my strength

that I will refuse.  I must bow before all others in my life,

but I will never bow before Rachel.  I will have none of your stew,

husband, for lentils have brought my brother-in-law only strife.

Seven years ago, I begged you to take me and be gone, Jacob,

and you would not.  I told you my father was up to some trick;

had he not tricked you into me, after all?  But Yahweh has smiled

upon you, and I am rejoiced your animals mate before the striped stick.

May you become even richer, my own husband,

may I bear your dynasty in my womb,

may I share your covenant, be mother to your multitudes,

and be buried beside you in your tomb.

Oh, Jacob, I am calling out to you this once more;

do not go to your Rachel again tonight.  Can you not see

that God has made her barren?  Perhaps he has seen

her secret sacrifices to our father's household deity,

and he is punishing her.

                        He has told me, Jacob, that I am

the more faithful of your wives

and as a reward I am the one blessed to bear your son.

I pray to Yahweh, that through his grace, he lives and thrives.

Surely now you must love me more than Rachel;

I have produced an heir, and your covenant can be fulfilled

through him.  Surely Yahweh has smiled on me, Jacob,

that he has heard my prayers and my sadness might be stilled.

All men love the wife who gives them sons the best;

it has been this way throughout all of time.

Are you so different, content to sleep with she whom is unproved?

The servant girls whisper that Rachel's womb is a bitter lime.

Yahweh has seen my misery, and so

I shall name him Reuben, my unborn son,

and he shall love me and then so, perhaps,

shall you, Jacob, and my misery will be done.

I give you all you ask, Jacob, why will you

refuse to come to my side tonight?  What do I miss

in my tent, that you go again to hers?  What do I lack

that I cannot give you marital bliss?

I am vindicated, but still I am somewhat sorrowful

despite Yahweh's blessings on me from above,

for while I rejoice to bear your first-born son,

I would rather have possessed your love.