This poem is dedicated to my husband, my Boaz, and my best friend. Thank you Chief for making every minute of this crazy life count.
Won’t you cover me?
Boaz cover your רות with your skirts.
Even if it hurts.
613 blossoms that bloom.
Won’t your Ruth cover you?
As your etzer Kenegdo.
Can you spread your garment over me?
And clothe me in dignity?
Wrap me in your strength,
And guard me from the enemy.
Oh, won’t you cover your Ruth?
Won’t you take me as your bride?
I can’t continue to creep away in the night,
From your threshing floor
Where all your goods are stored…
Won’t you open the door, for your Ruth?
No servant is to touch my Ruth.
No onlooker shall give her a rebuke.
Yes, I will cover you.
I will give you water to drink
And you shall glean even among the sheaves,
And no man will insult you,
And I will have my servants drop grain
Handfuls left behind for you to take,
Yes, on purpose!
I will go before the city gate and in front of every man state,
Here she is, my Ruth.
Come ten men,
Come Elders, come all.
Do you still have a rebuke?
As you take off your shoe,
Handing me what you refuse.
You are witnesses today that I have purchased Ruth to me my bride
And to raise up her seed
And to be a covering indeed!
Now we must become unified, as I leave and cleave.
Oh, Ruth, I’ll never back down!
I’ll never not stand!
For we are One.
And Obed will be our child
His name means servant, as he will be
Until through our lineage comes a great, great King
All Glory and Honor
Every knee must bow
And we, dear Ruth, will toss to Him our crowns
I love you My Boaz
You are my best friend
We are one now, and we’ll be one to the end
A picture of tragedy
But we’ve conquered now and won
The next generation will have records of our swords
And they will stand tall, mighty and strong
Dressed in tallit’s blowing shofars undone
May the army rise up
All across our land and May the next generation
Have a sword in their hands
I love you my Boaz.
I thank you as well,
For proclaiming to the world,
For protecting me in your fields
Yes, I am your bride
And my heart cannot take this love that I feel
For it’s ready to burst
It’s ready to sing
It’s ready to shout
For the new coming King
I love you my Ruth
You’ll bow lowly before kings
You’re a friend to the hurting
And a friend to those in need
I was given a rare gift
When the Father prepared you
We are one in the spirit
We are one with His truths.
“So Boaz took Ruth, and she was his isha; and when he went in unto her, Hashem gave her conception, and she bore ben [T.N. see Isa 7:14]. And the nashim said unto Naomi, Baruch Hashem, which hath not left thee this yom without a Go’el. May shmo be famous in Yisroel. And may he restore your nefesh and be a nourisher of thine old age; for thy kallah, which loveth thee, which is better to thee than shiva banim, hath born him.” Ruth 4:13-15 OJB.
Photo: My Boaz, Jeffery Manning