No-one ever talks about the women of Sodom.
Funny that – you’d almost think
They didn’t matter.
I knew them. They were my neighbours,
Gossiping around the well on sunny mornings,
Swapping recipes and stories of our children.
Sometimes they shared (quietly, half whispered)
Other stories too
Of unwanted hands grasping, of forced kisses.
No-one talks about the children of Sodom:
The little girls who never grew up
To gossip and cook and share stories,
The little boys who had not yet learned
To treat women as things to be used.
When the strangers came, and my husband offered
My girls in their place to the lusting mob
He was not so different.
He gathered us like chattels as he fled.
I would have gone with him anyway –
What other choices did I have? –
But I looked back for the women of Sodom
And the children.
I took their tears into myself; now I am still as salt.
Someday it will rain.
Notes: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your own dramatic monologue. ” Lot’s wife is named in some traditions as Ado or Edith.