mud ridges of moist clay
her footprints in the puddles
by the well
his too leaving
on a journey toward the south
hers deeper into self
and the heart she carries
heavier than the daily water skins
now emptied for others to drink
of the life he offered
bubbling beyond the noon’s thirst
neither here by Sychar’s high ground
nor on Jerusalem’s conflicting mount
but in those who believed
because of his word
saving the world
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