And when you are stripped
of cloak and sword
armor gone
skin exposed to the gathering storm--
and the storm always gathers
always upwelling swirls of
did he eat? who did he hurt?
does he cry? Why this rains?
Your soul feeding his soul
as your life fed his life
invistble ubilical pulsing between you
worry, love, exhaustion,knowlge
that some day it will be severed
and what will be left of you?
Who holds the edge
and what is left over?
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The entire royal family is drawn into David's orbit.
If Saul was the first to "love" David, now Jonathan's soul is "bound wth the soul of David""--an echo of Jacob's all-consuming love for Jonathan's ancestor Benjamin--his soul is bound with his soul (Genesis 44:30). "Jonathan loved David as himself," and indeed they are doppelgängers, David's fearless charge toward Goliath foreshadowed by Jonathan's own sortie against the Philistines, both united by an imminent sense of God's presence and involvement. Now the nation's former beloved hero strips himself to give all to the new beloved, taking "off the cloak and tunic he was wearing... together with his sword, bow, and belt."
As Jonathan gives all in love, Merav, Saul's older daughter, is offered to David as a wife, and Michal, his other daughter, "fell in love with David." The text is silent about whether David loves back. Vayichrot, the verb used for the covenant between Jonathan and David, is in the singular, indicating either complete merging--or one-sidedness.
To Saul, this is fatal attraction. The bons of love are a "snare", which he can only hope to turn against David rather than get caught in himself (regardless of the cruelty to his own daughter).
The dancing women--recalling the ambiguous salvation of Saul's tribe after the incident in Geva--are the trigger that turns love to jealousy, which quickly transforms to fear. Vayar 'see,' 'fear' is part of a key lexical set that revolves around eyes: who is seeing the whole picture, and who is right to be afraid?
David's playing, formerly a healing intimacy, becomes an opportunity for growing paranoia and attempted murder, as Saul attempts in vain to literally pin down his enigmatic rival. In the end, all he can do is "remove" David, as God has removed himself from Saul.
Hard to be a hero
enmeshed in care
of others
every leavetaking
an abandonment,
needs scaled
one atop the other
rib-crushing
traitjacket.
Easy not to be
body forgotten
in its encasement,
easy not to hear
your heartbeat
in the ceaseless clamour.
Every day, sun rises,
sun falls. A distant call
to look up
shed it all, let the wind
lift your arms
let it all fly.
There are parallels between the introduction of Saul and David: both kings-to-be are introduced in the context of their fathers; both introductions are suffused with allusions to the story of Jospeh and his brothers--Saul oscillates between "give" and take" as he wanders to the "burial place of Rachel" while David is sent, Joseph-like, to his brothers, and must return a Judah-like "pledge." Saul is introduced with a fable-like pattern of three, and he is the fairytale prince who stands head and shoulders over the rest. David's battle with Goliath also has the elements of a fairytale, but while the Giant may boom a ritualized threat, David himself remains firmly grounded in reality, as he squabbles with his annoyed older brother: “Why did you come down here, and with whom did you leave those few sheep in the wilderness? I know your impudence and your impertinence.” " I was only asking!"
This realistic frame makes the victory more profound--not magic or miracle, but human. The battle is presented as perfectly symmetrical: two mountains, two camps, two armies that "gathered"--Israel on one side, Philistines on the other. The ish ha-beynayim ('champion' lit, "in between man") strides between the two sides of the picture, demanding a corollary. Israel, thinking the corollary must be a mirror, tremble. When David offers to take on the Philistine champion, Saul can see no hope, but offers him the royal armor, in an attempt to make him mirror Goliath (albeit an inferior reflection).
David's brash strength is his refusal to be something he is not. "I cannot walk in these," he says, stripping off the armor, taking instead his own shepherd's pouch. He realizes a corollary can be a counterpoint rather than copy. Goliath, the insurmountable mountain, is defined by weight--a "breastplate weighing five thousand shekels" the "head of his spear weighed six hundred shekels." David, by contrast, is defined by his ability to leave (n't'sh) things behind as needed--first the sheep, then the supplies, then the armor. Fleet and unconstrained, he runs, fighting while in motion--and the mountain falls under its own weight. ]
Once
you were gilded
dawn climbed your shoulders
haloed your head
Once, you drank the sun
life champagne--
felt it bubble within
When did the world shift
from yours to theirs?
When did you become
a black hole
sucking at distant light?
Now they all dance
to music you cannot hear.
Every body more graceful
every face more lovely.
You are ash circles,
the dead weight off flesh
in friction with itself,
Walk, and self chafes against self.
You have proofed
overnight, ballooning disappointment.
Consistency is key.
And boundaries. Boundaries--
again and again,
I review: Don't walk back.
No regrets. Say it once
and hold. He cries
when I say no chocolate.
Forgets the warning: if you don't LISTEN,
if you don't stop. Now!
Please, he pleads
I'm good now. I didn't kick
since I got home.
M heart cracking.
Hand running through his swear-soft hair
his amber-flecked eyes.
Please, Imma, please.
One last chance.
And though I know it shoud be know
out slips yes.
at the moment of parting
before it's all torn away
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The chapter is framed by the relationship between Samuel and Saul: opening with Samuel defining himself as the one who anointed Saul, it ends with Samuel's mourning that God regrets annointing Saul. A chapter of intimacy and severance, when the entwined protagonists merge--and are torn apart.
Saul, indecisive, scrambling, fearful, is given one more chance: he can be leader of the level of Joshua, avenging Israel against their historic nemesis, and become part of Israel's eternal story. Saul steps up to the challenge, calling on the Kenites to depart by invoking a relationship that reaches back to the Exodus.
Yet the initial bravado is undone by his fundamental weakness. The king anointed under the command to Listen to all Israel demands listens to the voice of the people, unable to hear God's voice--or even his own. Indeed, it is unclear if Saul can even access his own desires. It is "Saul and the people" who originally spare Agag, yet Saul experiences the move as initiated by the people. He is the dog being wagged by the tail: "I feared the people, and listened to their voice." The inability to listen completes the dissolution introduced in the previous chapters: God "regrets" [n'h'm] that he chose Saul as king, introducing the twinned leitworts of the chapter: n'h'm (regret / reconsideration) and sh'v (return / turn away).
Samuel originally opposed the creation of the monarchy, and reproached Israel even as they joyfully celebrate Saul. Yet now, at the moment of dissolution, his personal investment is laid bare as well: very distressed, he entreats God all night. Samuel is the lynchpin of Saul's relationship to God and to the people --the chapter opens by emphasizing this intimate triangulation: "It is I that God sent to anoint you king over Israel." The moment that the kingship falls away, the relationship between Saul and Samuel becomes primary: I transgressed God's mouth and your words" Saul says, realizing that his sin is also against Samuel. Even as God rejects Saul, he clings to Samuel, the two merging linguistically until it is unclear who is the tearer and who the one torn: "And Samuel turned to leave and he grabbed the edge of his cloak, and it tore." God, the Eternal of Israel, might not return or change his mind, but Saul begs Samuel to "return" with him, and at least provide him backing against the people he so fears. Samuel, after refusing, is unable to refuse. His weakness echoes Saul's own inability to stand fast, the two mirroring each other.
This final intimacy presages the final dissolution, as Saul and Samuel split forever: Samuel never saw Saul again to the day of his death, but Samuel grieved over Saul, because God regretted [n'h'm] having made Saul king over Israel." The chiastic structure of God's n'h'm frames Samuel's assertion that God is "not a man, who is n'h'm." We return to the world of flux defined in Hanna's thanksgiving prayer, which first introduced the idea of kingship. In this world of mutability and change, God may transform individual destiny, but there remains an immutabl anchor, the Eternal of Israel, who does not lie or regret [n'h'm].
-You can't take that! / But I want to / Stop! Stop kicking him! Can't you see he's crying ?! / smiling into my eyes / But it's fun/ / in my contacts, the psychiatrist, the school psychologist, the guidance counselor, the clinic social worker, the social service social worker // when you sleep / in the passage / between battle and battle // past the day's sharp teeth / I shoot messages / wait for answers / any answer / parenting by committee / because the one thing I know / is I don't know / what the hell I should be doing.
