You don’t know my name,
like most of the women
I had one, but it hardly mattered.
I was known as Lot’s Wife.

You don’t know my story either,
like most of the women
I had a story, but it was not important.

Our stories belong to men
to remember and tell according 
to their own purpose.

I am remembered as the foolish woman
who looked back when my city 
was destroyed, even though 

remembering, looking back, 
honestly facing our history and
its unspeakable horrors
is mandated by men and their gods.

Sodom had been my home, but I was
now homeless; what was before me and
what was left behind except the

carcasses of innocent children,
daughters and sons roasted alive,
sacrificed to the iniquities of men.

I turned back because I was already dead.
I became a pillar of salt to mark the
Place I finally remembered my name.


©2023marthahurwitz