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.
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A Q&A about this poem with Sherry Work is available here.
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