For Lot’s Wife 
by Hana Meron

How must it feel to be judged by all of human history 
when all you wanted was a final glimpse of home 

Home wasn’t always a burning thing 
coated in brimstone and the wrath of almighty God

You loved there. Even after your husband offered your 
daughters up for rape, you planted miracles in the garden 

You heard the angel’s command: Don’t look back
but you knew there was a piece of home worth keeping 

in your heart. So you chose, and for that instantaneous
glance back upon all you loved: crystallized to salt,

but home. You stand taller now, watch for ships or 
new angels that threaten the city. The sea stretches 

below, but you cling to the rock, keep vigil for the family 
you miss. You guard what’s left with all your heart.

(c) Hana Meron Poetry