By ancient well beneath the noonday glare,
A woman bent to draw her daily share,
Her jar a burden, heart a shadowed vale,
Where whispered sins hung heavy in the air.
A stranger sat, his gaze both kind and deep,
And spoke of water living souls might keep—
No well could hold it, nor could stone confine,
A spring to cleanse where weary spirits sleep.
She marveled at his words, her past laid bare,
Yet found no judgment in his steady stare,
But grace that flowed beyond her tribe’s divide.
Through dust and doubt, truth blossomed then and there,
A stream eternal broke the heart inside,
And left her voice to echo far and wide.