I’m still moving blogs from Obadiah’s Cave to my new site. This is an older poem I wrote. The poem is dedicated to my husband, my Boaz, and my best friend. Thank you, Chief, for making every minute of this crazy life count.
Won’t you cover me?
Boaz cover your רות with your skirts.
Even if it hurts.
613 blossoms that bloom.
Won’t your Ruth cover you?
As your etzer Kenegdo.
Can you spread your garment over me?
And clothe me in dignity?
Wrap me in your strength,
And guard me from the enemy.
Oh, won’t you cover your Ruth?
Won’t you take me as your bride?
I can’t continue to creep away in the night,
From your threshing floor
Where all your goods are stored…
Won’t you open the door for your Ruth?
No servant is to touch my Ruth.
No onlooker shall give her a rebuke.
Yes, I will cover you.
I will give you water to drink.
And you shall glean even among the sheaves,
And no man will insult you,
And I will have my servants drop grain.
Handfuls left behind for you to take,
Yes, on purpose!
I will go before the city gate and in front of every man state,
Here she is, my Ruth.
Come ten men,
Come Elders, come all.
Do you still have a case?
The widow Naomi I’ll take.
As you take off your shoe,
Handing me what you refuse.
You are witnesses today that I have purchased Ruth to be my bride
And to raise up her seed.
And to be a covering indeed.
Oh, Ruth, I’ll never back down.
I’ll never not stand!
For we are One.
And Obed will be our child.
His name means servant, as he will be
Until through our lineage comes a great, great King.
All Glory and Honor
Every knee must bow
And we, dear Ruth, will toss Him our crowns.
I love you. My Boaz
You are my best friend.
We are one now, and we’ll be one to the end.
A picture of tragedy
But we’ve conquered now and won.
The next generation will have records of our swords.
And they will stand tall, mighty and strong.
Dressed in tallit’s blowing shofars undone
May the army rise up.
All across our land, and May the next generation.
Have a sword in their hands
I love you, my Boaz.
I thank you as well,
For proclaiming to the world,
For protecting me in your fields
Yes, I am your bride.
And my heart cannot take this love that I feel.
For it’s ready to burst.
It’s ready to sing
It’s ready to shout
For the new coming King
I love you, my Ruth
You’ll bow lowly before kings.
You’re a friend to the hurting.
And a friend to those in need.
I was given a rare gift.
When the Father prepared you
We are one in the spirit.
We are one with His truths.
“So Boaz took Ruth, and she was his isha; and when he went in unto her, Hashem gave her conception, and she bore ben [T.N. see Isa 7:14]. And the nashim said unto Naomi, Baruch Hashem, which hath not left thee this yom without a Go’el. May shmo be famous in Yisroel. And may he restore your nefesh and be a nourisher of thine old age; for thy kallah, which loveth thee, which is better to thee than shiva banim, hath born him.” Ruth 4:13-15 OJB.