Shame Walks Alone

The woman saith unto him, Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw. John 4:15

The water she daily draws from the well is the bitterness that brings the curse, but drink it she must. for she thirsts. Her belly swells and her thighs rot. from the inside out. baring her pain. her shame. the blame. for all to see. She bears her own iniquity. A curse among her people, she carries her weighty and empty bucket to be filled only. and lonely. with bitter water for her journey.

Shame walks alone in the sixth hour’s searing Light. in full sight. of those who shame her while they hide in the cool of the shadows. She cannot see them, but she feels their icy stares that chill her to her dry, sun-scorched bones. She hears their unspoken accusations in the air of her despair. Tastes their taunts on her lips. bitter bite-sized drips. she must swallow whole and digest.

Thirsty, she walks the streets of her fathers, unlike her mothers, alone. To and fro, day after day in the heat of the day. Head down, eyes gazing upon the dust that clings to her feet to remind her of her filth, she silently sighs and hides her cries. A single tear hangs from the corner of her left eye, but hasn’t the fortitude to drop. can’t cool her face. won’t soothe her disgrace. Cheeks chapped and dry, vision blurred, she cannot see but feels her footprints are deep, as she inwardly weeps, for the weight she carries sinks her into the earth. Into the muck and the mire, of her desire, for righteousness, she is pressed. by her shame, named, but until today… left unspoken.

Shame seeks relief, but has resigned herself to believe her only recourse is avoidance. Avoidance of those who lurk and look upon her with heavy glares. So she hurries each day, alone, to and fro, to escape the light and enter back in to her darkness where she can hide. She watches each morning from her lattice window. Sees them emerge from their shadows and walk in the cool of the day, together, heads held high, dry eyes, sandals fitted to protect their feet from the dust. Unseen, unfelt footprints, their walk is light and carefree.

Shame envies. She wonders what it is like to be free, with those who walk the streets of their fathers, like their mothers, together, but her sentence has been rendered. Hope is an ever elusive white fluffy cloud she once used to chase and never catch so she has given up running and resigns. cloaked beneath the heavy, wet blanket. of shame. she cannot escape and thus has stopped trying and until today. stopped crying. too.

If only she didn’t thirst. Then tomorrow she would have no need to come hither to draw from the well in these streets. Wouldn’t need to face another day of walking alone in the sixth hour’s heat. Wouldn’t need to drink again the bitter water that keeps bringing the curse.

If only she didn’t thirst.

But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life. John 4:14

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