by Susan Taylor Block
(Joseph and his brothers, great-grandsons of Abraham, became Patriarchs of the 12 Tribes of Israel.)
Joseph bragged that crucial day —
It made his brothers plot away.
The coat itself had been enough,
But then the boys got sibling-tough.
They stole his robe, a cloak of kings,
And sold him as one does with things.
Their nasty deeds they all did savor,
But couldn’t rob him of God’s favor.
Joseph, now his mouth closed tightly,
Took his place at slavery block.
Bidders drove his price up steeply:
He just looked like first-class stock.
Potiphar bought the handsome Hebrew,
Took him home to mind his house.
Joseph went about his labors,
The boss’s wife forgot her spouse.
Joseph ran away from trouble
But got blamed as if he sinned
Went to jail and must have wondered
Where his steep descent would end.
A curtain rises in the night,
A drama plays without a light,
The backdrop: Just two little lids
With scenes that rationale forbids.
Joseph told what dreams foretell,
A special gift that served him well.
Though by himself he had no clue,
The Playwright kindly shared Act Two.
Meant for Good
Joseph rose to rule a nation,
Pharoah’s pet: He got more clothes!
Had the choice to hurt his brothers -
But forgave their angry blows.
“I am JOSEPH,” he yelled, sobbing -
Who you meant to edit out.”
The Hand, it wrote a bigger story,
Casting chance in serious doubt.
(Text copyright Susan Taylor Block, 2006. All rights reserved.
Source: Genesis 37-50)