literature

Leah: He Loves Her, He Loves Me Not

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Published: Jun 1, 2013

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Literature Text

He loves her,
he loves me not.
He loves her -
the pretty one.
I was always meant to be
the spinster aunt,
the old maid sister,
destined to remain
in her beautiful shadow.

He loves her,
he loves me not.
Who would notice me
when she is there?
And now she is
always here
always between
me and him
making him
love her, not me,
not plain old me.

He loves her,
he loves me not.
He loves me not -
the plain one.
Here I am,
forever overshadowed,
in a loveless marriage,
fighting for him,
for the least bit of attention,
and still always remaining
in her beautiful shadow.

And yet
you see my plight, o Lord.
You see me, the plain one,
and take pity.
The one less loved
becomes a mother of children -
children, the symbol of love.
He loves me not -
still it hurts,
but your love comforts me.
He loves her,
he loves me not -
but
you love me.

I've been planning to write this for YEARS. I already knew the line "he loves her, he loves me not" would feature, but never knew how to get further until now.

I thought of Leah, the plainer sister, always in her sister's shadow, less loved by Jacob. Read the story in Genesis 29: [link]
Thankfully we don't have to share husbands nowadays, but still I think the feeling of being overlooked because of someone prettier, or not being loved by the one we want love from, or being left for another, is something pretty universal (sadly). What Leah's story shows is that even if you don't get the love and attention from a man, God loves you - and His love is, in the end, what counts more. Though I don't think the hurt completely goes away; it's natural after all to long for love. But I think there is something really comforting in realising that God loves you more than a man ever can, and I think it's important to realise that a man can never fulfill and satisfy you; only God can. It's something I've been learning.

The "sister poem", Rachel, is here: [link]

_{Don't ask me why I'm cranking out so many poems tonight; I'll blame the entire pot of green tea I just emptied... Or maybe it's because I have a deadline to send all my poems to my mother for printing, hehe~}