Hannah was mother of no-child for years and years.
This was pain; pain etched deep.
In her culture, infertility was a woman’s fault
a sign of God’s disfavour,
a source of shame
a  slow internal dying of an envisioned future,
a well of grief and tears.

And every year
their religious pilgrimage took them to Shiloh,
where the Tent of Meeting, the Tabernacle is set up,
the dwelling place of God.

And Hannah prayed,
under the eye of Eli,
High Priest of Shiloh
swaying
to the rhythm of
her
solitary
whispered
prayer of the heart.

And Hannah came
year after year
staying faithful to her deepest desire
until the time of fruitfulness came.