like a woman drawing from a well full of words
finally drawn by the Word
between white-washed sepulchers
and an empty tomb—
my fathers taught me to worship on the mountain
between fists full of stones
and one finger in the sand—
my lovers taught me to sin in the valley
between the city that sends me out to the well
and the One who wants to quench my thirst.
but come and see the stranger who told me everything I need to know
to stop drawing from the old well
and to drink deeply in spirit and in truth.