She was far younger than the hard story etched into the geography of her face. Thin and tired, she dragged herself to the slave market, her last and only hope. None desired her now; they had abandoned her along with her faded beauty. Discarded, she hoped she could sell herself as a house-slave to someone who would at least feed and clothe her. She grimaced, remembering the beautiful robes, the gold earrings, silver bracelets and beautifully coiffed hair given her by her long-gone lovers.
For a fleeting moment, her thoughts turned to the husband of her youth. Was he still around? Had he remarried? Surely he had divorced her by now. The thought of her abandoned children tugged at her heart. But all that too was past. She steeled herself to the final humiliation. Survival was, to her, a cruel taskmaster.
Standing on the block, the last of the lot, none bid on her. None saw anything of value in this old-before-her-time woman--Too worn out to work; too ugly for the bed.
Her shoulders slumped. She could see the death procession in her mind's eye; no mourners, only the hired pall bearers taking her ragged forgotten body to its pauper's grave outside the city walls. Too tired to weep for herself, death-resignation filled her soul.
A small stir at the far edge of the crowd drew her attention. Someone's face was toward her, jarring against the sea of rejecting backs and shoulders. A flicker of hope flared then died in sudden recognition. He faced her, the one who had the most reason to turn away. Death seemed suddenly bearable compared to this final degradation. Rooted to the place and moment, she could not move.
His eyes caught and held hers; His love transfixed her. He turned from her to the auctioneer. A brief exchange, the clink of silver and the auctioneer released the chain.
They stood staring at one another for a moment, eye to eye, in a wordless exchange only known to those who know and are known. Then he reached for and took her hand, leading her away. In his touch she knew it was not to chains that he was taking her, but to home.
***
Based on the story of Gomer in the Hebrew scriptures, book of Hosea
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