woman at the well

“your skin is my skin,” she said.
“your lips are my lips,
your heart, my heart.”
beyond parable and pleasure
those three simple lines
whispered into life
struck a note deep within
setting free all of my
ancient fears.

a single tear
released from the prison
of her past spilled down
her unblemished cheek.
unable to reach
her private pain i knelt
on hallowed ground
and prayed for dark clouds
to pass.