The Well Woman

I chanced upon a woman at
the well beneath the ziggurat
as she drew forth the liquid life
she told a tale of loving strife

Between two kindred souls it seemed
both too stubborn to be weaned
from the breast of stubborn anger, rage
though it served neither at any age

continued clashing through their passion
each responding in their fashion
hurtful words; cruelty invaded
sugared times and made them jaded

The woman drew her final pail
said to me mournfully, they failed
they took their eye off of their hearts
and slowly they were torn apart


I asked her how can I avoid this
she chuckled slowly said here’s the jist
if your words not loving be
do not speak and you will see

That love is able to endure
yes this I know I am quite sure
between the doves and bears I’ve known
who banished cruelty from their home