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Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The Lady at The Well




She walked there every day to fetch water
For her family, her friends, even for others
A place of refuge, she called it sometimes
A way of escape from the misery of time
Life at home was a pitiful crate
Children were starving and a husband out of shape

So the well was her place to flee
But for those passing by she was a center of irony
Through her sad face, she cracked up a smile
But her wrinkles and skeleton figure gave away her mile
Oh if only death could come sooner and eased up her pain
But something kept her going with a sense of gain

She sat a the well waiting for her next teaser
Death constantly remained her faithful keeper
It was almost dawn
And she had to return home
Not enough money to compensate the raging hour
For she would have wanted to bring at least some flour

She hated her life even more
It was the weekend and her children would sleep hungry once more
Her mind exploded with remorseless words
Her children are more deserving than birds
Tears gushed out with frustration and dispossession
Pain and anger in harmony filled with desperation

It was time to go
With nothing to show
Her last customer “another shame” she said
He came with a smile, calming her dread
As she poured water with hidden face
He was imposed and would not gave her space

He drew closer and held her shaking hands
This time she looked through his eyes and saw change
Lost for words she was pleased
As he made her feel finally at eased
She didn’t share a thought with him but he knew everything
Hesitantly she smiled as she grabs hold to a new beginning

He had seen this path before
Many, he knew, had fallen at the same shore
She cried, only this time it was pure joy
Unable to retain herself, she knelt at his feet in implore
“My grace is sufficient” he whispered in her ears
She was perplexed and let go of her fears

Many years she worked at the well
For the first time she believed all was well
A real smile in her face
She said: “the lady at the well had found grace”
Her life, no longer the same
Had met the man who carried everyone’s shame

© November 27, 2012 by N. Michel/Bellflower’s Moment

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