But A Lady At A Well Poem by bradley blue jay phipps

My will is to be set free.
My will is my choice, and
my choice alone.
I have no need of a
god or path, which allows
the injustice I find and
somewhat desire.



It is all
well and good to say, 'do
with me as you will... '



Christ knew the plan. I
have only a glimpse of
prosaic words, which fall
into dispute.
The words
as much killers and
instruments of torture
as hands and hearts.
Twisted
is a man's fate
in the hierarchy of
anything with rules
and regents.



The Dark Ages?
Blood alone the symbol
of rulers, dis-ease and
the Lamb (whose mother
is worshiped more by
some) . He is set to return
as a King on horseback
dealing death.
(yes, but they will deserve it)



Separated by words again.
The lack of them. The truth
hidden in chapter and verse.
Who is a prophet, but one
who has an agenda. Christ
had a purse. Without
it there would be no need
of Judas.



I am too proud
to humble and give
up myself. I long
for hope in faith by love.

I just don't feel it today.
My heart is crumpled
and lonely and far
from comforted by words
of ancient texts
called, 'Holy, ' by men.



It is one thing to go
into the desert and
live for God, and
another to go about
the daily, barely thinking
of eternity.
I step into each day blind
and beaten.



It is pure hysteria to say,
'I am persecuted. They have
circumcised my genitalia, and
I am happy. Rejoice with me'



Still...
as my eyes close and
whispered groans
of prayers
release my burdens, I
find the alternative 'isms'
are empty...
Void, vacuous, forsaken and
exhausted. By study. By
experience. By living in the
dark of my age.
By a Spiritual Awakening.
No dip or dunk. No hum
of sound while emptying
a mind. No burnt offerings
or runes. No jihad.
Just the miracle
of lifting the compulsion
to drink alcohol.


The voices quieted. Hope
stirred, Faith kindled and
Love flamed.
My heart was filled.
The Living Water flowed.



I am
but a lady at a well.
Who was He to speak to
the likes of me?