To King Solomon

William Blake's The Judgment of Solomon

We all learn your story when we are young: two women, each had a new baby, but one baby dies. One claims the other switched the living baby for the dead baby in the middle of the night, and they argue over which baby belongs to whom.

 

They stand before you. You are young and new to all this king stuff. Your kingdom has little faith in you because you are really just a boy. And now, these two women are in your court. Between them, the baby squirms and cries. He is just days old.

You will be known one day for your wisdom, the one gift you asked for from God. But today is not that day. And though you have asked for wisdom, you can’t know you have it until it is tested. And you can’t know how clear or intelligent or meaningful it is until you make the call. 

And the baby just keeps crying.

“Bring me a sword!!”

We know how the story ends. The woman who pleads to save the baby is clearly the mother. Only a mother would rather have the baby live.

But there was a moment--it must have felt like falling--before either woman spoke. A moment when you could hear the blood in your brain. You are holding the sword above the baby, and around you, your guards and servants stare. You hope this goes as planned. You cannot look at either woman as you wait. You will have to follow through, be a man of your word, if they both agree. One woman says yes, go ahead.

You wait for the other to speak.

You will be known for your songs and your prayers, but the one you say now is one you will never write. You never want to say it again.