The Woman at the Well
I walked through the desert of despair.
I thirst for the hope of salvation.
Each step filled with the heaviness of desperation.
There had to be a way to look up to the heavens,
a spark, a glistening beam that would not burn,
that would lead me on to find what could not be uttered
or explained with words.
I ventured with the trust of a newborn child who welcomes
the lessons of the cold world with open arms.
Desperate as each second passed and new pages of my life
turned into hours and days of depression.
Yet in the distance, the view was a glorious vision,
only one that God could paint in front of me.
I ran with bleeding sores from the blazing sun of loneliness
to a well of hope, praying it was not dry.
I looked deeply and pulled up the bucket to drink
the life-quenching water that filled my parched soul,
with a family that enfolded, embraced, and elevated my heart.
A heart that once only beat with the sound of the clock.
I fell to my knees for it is He.
I give God the glory who ended my search at the well
that overflows with love.
A love that flows from heart to heart and I thirst no more.
