I am a woman of no distinction. Of little importance, I’m a woman of no reputation to say which is bad.
You whisper as I pass by and cast judgment until glances. Though you don’t really take the time to look at me, or even get to know me.
For to be known is to be loved.
To be loved is to be known, and otherwise what is the point of doing either one of them in the first place.
I want to be known.
I want someone to look at my face and not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth and two ears.
But to see all that I am and could be, all my hopes, loves and fears. But that is too much to hope for, to wish for or pray for, so I don’t, not anymore.
Now I keep to myself, by that I mean the pain. Pain that keeps me in my own private jail, the pain that’s brought me here at midday to this well.
To ask for a drink is no bigger quest, but to ask it of me.
A woman unclean, ashamed, used, abused,an outcast,a failure, a disappointment, a sinner.
No drink passing from these hands to your lips could ever be refreshing, only condemning. As I’m sure you condemn me now, but you don’t
You are a man of no distinguish to the outmost importance, a man with little reputation at least so far. You whisper and tell me to my face What all those glances have been about.
and you take the time to really look at me, I don’t need to get to know me. For to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known.
and you know me, you actually know me, all of me and everything about me.
Every thought inside and hair on top of my head, every hurt stored up, every hope, every dread.
From my past to my future, all I am and could be, you tell me everything, you tell me about me.
And that what would be spoken by an other would bring hate and condemnation.
Coming from you brings love, grace, mercy, hope and salvation.
I’ve heard of one to come who would save a wretch like me and here in my presence you say I am He.
To be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known.
I just meet you, but I love you. I don’t know you, but I want to get to.
Let me run back to town this is way too just me.
There are other brothers, sisters, lovers and haters. The good and the bad sinners and saints who should hear what you’ve told me, who should see what you showed me, who taste what you gave me, who should feel how you forgave me.
For to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known, and they all need this too, we all do, need it for our own.