Abraham’s Daughter

The following is a work of fiction, but it incorporates details from Genesis 16, 21, and 22. My story was inspired by the song, “Abraham’s Daughter” by Arcade Fire.

I clutched at my mama’s skirts, tearing them. Screaming and kicking, I tried to get back to her. I dug my fingers into the sand but sand is sneaky, and the man dragging me away gripped me so hard I thought my ribs would crack. I sobbed and choked, my tears drying the instant they hit the hot ground. I watched my mama throw herself at the old woman’s feet, wailing like a mourner at a burial. But Sarah kicked my mother in the face, dusting her head with dirt and bloodying her nose.

The God Who Sees Me (Genesis 16)

Invisible. Overlooked. Inferior.

I sit alone in the tent of slaves, trying to prepare myself for the day. Work. Unrelenting, overwhelming. I am no one.

I rise slowly and drink stale water from a jug. The old woman gets angry if I am slow. So I hurry in the darkness to the well. I climb down the uneven mud steps and draw fresh water for her and the old man.

I arrive at the tent. Good. They still sleep. I set my jug down and get to work on the bread, taking the barley I ground yesterday and mixing up a loaf.