she was standing in the rain
as drenched as her conscience
she was wary of bystanders
could read the invisible jeers from nameless faces
it is a cold world
colder than a Siberian winter
her soul was colder
bereft of love and care
she is used to being used
tired of being vulnerable
she hears a thousand whispers from sealed lips
a thousand winks from closed eyes
every helper was a user
every helping hand had a hidden dagger
she won't trust the Sunday morning crowd
they judge and pontificate, but they don't live in her world
she had long shut her world
shut the doors and flung the keys
alone in her world
she made the rules and broke the rules
but still she had something
she waited for his coming
so as she went to the well
and she saw him sitting and thirsty
another son of Adam
a prowling son of Adam
"you don't take drinks from my likes " she says
"it is not religiously correct."
"we are supposed to assemble on the mountain"she says
at least as far as i know
"you can't get a drink for yourself
and you claim to have some drink that won't make me thirst again?"
"but our father's drank from here
even the patriarch and thirsted" she says
but she dared to ask
give me this water
so i won't come this way
so the whispers and jeers will stop
so i won't face a cold uncaring world
always taking never giving
but in her quest she could perceive
"i think you are a different" she says
she dared to trust his words
she dared to run off at his words
she dared to run to town
to her putrid past
she faced the jeers of former in-laws
and whispers of alimony questions
she dared to ask him who he IS
she dared to believe his answer
she dared to face a city
and speak of what brought her shame
naked,she became clothed
loathed she became honoured
nameless, her name resounds thru history
"the woman by the well"
graceless,she found help
became a source of help
beyond help
she fell within the grips of grace
she dared to love again
she dared to call him LORD
as drenched as her conscience
she was wary of bystanders
could read the invisible jeers from nameless faces
it is a cold world
colder than a Siberian winter
her soul was colder
bereft of love and care
she is used to being used
tired of being vulnerable
she hears a thousand whispers from sealed lips
a thousand winks from closed eyes
every helper was a user
every helping hand had a hidden dagger
she won't trust the Sunday morning crowd
they judge and pontificate, but they don't live in her world
she had long shut her world
shut the doors and flung the keys
alone in her world
she made the rules and broke the rules
but still she had something
she waited for his coming
so as she went to the well
and she saw him sitting and thirsty
another son of Adam
a prowling son of Adam
"you don't take drinks from my likes " she says
"it is not religiously correct."
"we are supposed to assemble on the mountain"she says
at least as far as i know
"you can't get a drink for yourself
and you claim to have some drink that won't make me thirst again?"
"but our father's drank from here
even the patriarch and thirsted" she says
but she dared to ask
give me this water
so i won't come this way
so the whispers and jeers will stop
so i won't face a cold uncaring world
always taking never giving
but in her quest she could perceive
"i think you are a different" she says
she dared to trust his words
she dared to run off at his words
she dared to run to town
to her putrid past
she faced the jeers of former in-laws
and whispers of alimony questions
she dared to ask him who he IS
she dared to believe his answer
she dared to face a city
and speak of what brought her shame
naked,she became clothed
loathed she became honoured
nameless, her name resounds thru history
"the woman by the well"
graceless,she found help
became a source of help
beyond help
she fell within the grips of grace
she dared to love again
she dared to call him LORD
Now I'm utterly speechless. With goose bumps all over my arms, I try to put my comment together.
ReplyDeleteShe dared to face her past, but as a changed woman. A hundred times I must have read this story, but not once like this.
I have been most blessed by this sharing and I dare to hold on to him, no matter my past, my experience, my pain, my shame, my hurt and downfalls. I dare to trust him completely. I dare to call him my Lord, for life!
This is a masterpiece.
ReplyDeleteMy brother is one of the best writers I have ever met! Am still awed!
ReplyDeletefluid poetry! more powers....
ReplyDelete