Rachel labours watching with a soft eye through her pain.
She’s losing herself, but Israel will gain.
Son of her trouble cradled in the patriarch’s right hand.
In season’s everlasting, where the products of flames fanned.
Will be like the Benjamins, born from above and full of love.
The excellence of Spirit, the expression of Dove.
These ladies of Jacob are more than poetry on page.
But were girls in reality, and with their children war they wage.
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From @othnielpoole