A cleansing ritual
Pure water flows
Living water washes me
Clean every whit.
My heart is soothed
My spirit soars
At one with my Lord
Changed and renewed.
Daughter of the oath
Watched by my King.
“Come, Bathsheba.”
Oh you knew, you knew.
Wife and then widow
A mother in Israel
Would God I’d died for him,
Not my sin, but yours.
#
A Q&A about this poem with Sherry Work is available here.