Drained of usefulness,
Discarded by the roadside
Like an empty amber bottle
Tossed out the window
To shatter on the shoulder,
Only to be swept up,
Crushed,
Recycled,
Ready for the next thirsty customer.
Five times used,
Broken,
Discarded.
Smarter this time,
Harder.
Two can play at this game.
My own bottle trades
For a ten-cent deposit.
Broken? It sure is,
But lips bloodied by the drinking are
Better than dying of thirst.
Aren’t they?
Five times been known,
Five times rejected.
Better now to hide myself
In the loneliness
Of the glaring noonday sun,
Bright enough to keep inquiring minds
And catcalls from the well,
But no light bright enough
To bleach my scarlet letter—
Indelible ink—
Mama warned me—
To match the faded landscape.
“Give Me a drink?”
Great, another one.
And a Jew, at that.
He should know better.
“If you knew who I am. . . “
More to the point,
If You knew who I am,
Mister,
We wouldn’t be having this conversation,
But this is a new line, even to me.
OK, I’ll bite:
Tell me more;
(Big shot, eh?
Might be time for me
To cash in
And trade up.)
More promises:
Water to quench
The unquenchable.
Water?
A bloomin’ spring,
My own well,
Life that never runs dry.
Suddenly I’m very tired,
Tired of the thirst,
The bloody lips,
The long, hot hiding.
‘Sir, give me this water.’
“Go, call your husband and come back.”
There it is—
I brace for the blow,
Found out again.
Unless. . .
Maybe a way out? Truth?
‘I have no husband.’
Hope shatters.
He knows me already
For the broken bottle I am.
But—
If He knew all along,
Why is He still here?
Has my reputation preceded me—
Is this just one more thirsty customer
Looking for a cheap drink?
Funny, He doesn’t seem like all the others.
What then, a prophet?
Here’s a test:
‘Where should we worship?’
“A time is coming. . .
Salvation from the Jews. . .
A time is coming and is here. . .
True worshipers. . .
The Father seeks. . .
Spirit and truth. . .”
The Father seeking worshipers,
This Man seeking me.
Water seeking out a desert.
Seeking me,
Even knowing whom He seeks?
Such acceptance: surely not
Messiah?
“I who speak to you am He.”
A well springs up,
Bubbling and dancing
All over the Samaritan landscape,
Singing,
“Come and see!
Come and see!
He knows!
He knows it all!
Come and see Messiah!
More springs gush and ripple,
The whole town flooded
With living water
From one broken bottle
Given a Drink.
pondering Good News with the community at Ann's today:
pondering Good News with the community at Ann's today:
