Betrothal At The Well Poem by Elaine Terranova

At a well, a maiden (na'arah)
is drawing water. A stranger arrives.
He is footsore, weary. The maiden,
hospitable, invites him home.
The stranger has run away, he has
been driven away, he has come to seek
his fortune. He has come for her.
This she knows and doesn't know.
She only hopes. It is why she is
so often at the well. The water
is her future. Her brother welcomes him,
'Come in, O blessed of the Lord,'
examines the stranger's gifts, nose ring
and bracelets, that already attach
the maiden to him. Not surprisingly,
the stranger asks for the maiden's hand.
Maybe not for himself, maybe he
is a servant, his master has sent him.
If so she has wasted that first look
with her heart. And he, his imagining,
his anticipation. Could it be otherwise?
Behold: a manservant, in spite of his thirst.
A cipher, only meant to hold the place.
The covenant depends on it.