Looking Back

Remember me before I was a heap of salt,
The laughing child who seldom did 
as she was told or came when she was called,
The merry girl who became Lot’s bride,
The happy woman who loved her wicked city.
Do not remember me with pity.
I saw you plodding on ahead 
into the desert of your pitiless faith.
Those springs are dry; that earth is dead.
I looked back, not forward, into death.
Forgiving rains dissolve me, and I come 
still disobedient, still happy, home.