I'm standing by the battle,
On Mt. Gilboah.
I see King Saul, falling on his sword,
Slowly bleeding out,
Staring at the sky.
A King of Israel, without the power to die.
"You lad, come to me."
I approach in terror.
"My boy, all enemies are brothers,
For we all come from the same mother.
And we all, one day, will return to her cold embrace.
Help my time come closer,
So my defeat isn't a victory
To the Philistines,
But is a gift, to King David, my brother."
As a turn away to go tell King David of King Saul's gift,
I take the bloodied blade with me,
And I promise, one day, to turn it into a pruning hook.
~~~
Photo by Gary Barnes from Pexels
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וּמִיַּד שָׁאוּל (תהילים יח:א)
And from the hand of Saul (Psalms 18:1).