As the door of the prison clanged shut behind us, I commanded Jabin to stay at the prison entrance and told the guard to take me to Samson's cell and leave me there alone until I called for someone to come and let me out. I assured him that I had no fear of the large man in the cell. The guard obviously had already been advised by the high priest to allow me some privacy as I faced Samson. He did not demure, but simply took me to a door.

"We cleaned him up and put him in a special room for your visit," the guard said. Spitting in the dust, he continued, "You would not have been able to abide the stench had we taken you to the cell where the only toilet is a corner of the room. If the smell of excrement had not overpowered you, his body odor would have. Even clean and in a holding cell, he is not a pretty sight."

I opened the door and stepped inside, closing the portal behind me and leaning against the rough wood. I found myself in dark cell lighted only by a small lamp on a ledge over the door. I made out a man sitting on the sleeping bench across from me. He was turned away from the door, as though rejecting anything or anyone that might come into the room. While he had the height of the Samson I knew, the pleasing bulk was gone. Muscle still rippled when he moved, but the magnificent physique was altered. He was more gaunt. His skin lacked the luster I remembered. But what transformed him from an imposing physical specimen into a mere man was his stance. Gone was the brash posture that proclaimed, "Look at me. I am invincible." Instead, his body was slumped, his pose one of melancholy, lacking confidence.   

Unbelievably his body had been shaved, as though his captors feared his hairiness. I had helped cut the beautiful locks that adorned his majestic head, after he told me his strength came from the unshorn tresses that were a part of his Nazarene vow. I guess to ensure that his strength would remain extinct, the Philistine guards had shaved his chest, legs, arms, and face. Later when I was closer, I would realize that the hair had started to grow back. His body was covered with the same kind of stubble a man's face gets when he goes without shaving for a few days. 

As I stood, overcome by sorrow, he slowly turned toward me, raising his head and sniffing the air like an animal checking the wind before approaching the watering hole. In horror I saw the once handsome face, marred almost beyond recognition. The hypnotic eyes were no more. Scabbed holes were positioned on either side of his hooked nose. As I remembered the eyes that reminded me of dark lagoons where I had lost my soul on our first encounter, tears ran unheeded down my cheeks and dripped onto the soft lace of my useless veil. When a soft moan escaped my treasonous lips, the specter on the bench said, "Delilah? It is you, is it not? I can smell your perfume and I recognize that soft sigh. Have you come to gloat and further trample my broken spirit?"

Advancing into the room, I replied in a hoarse whisper, "Oh, Samson, what have I done? I sold my soul and yours – for a coffer of silver."

Openly weeping, I sat on the bench beside Samson. With a questing hand, he reached out and felt the filmy gauze of my veil. With a shaking appendage, he removed the bit of cloth and taking his thumb, he gently caught a tear as it fell from my eye. As he put his thumb in his mouth and slowly sucked the salt from the tip, memory ignited and I remembered that first tear that he caught so long ago. I sat as though in a trance until I felt Samson press his thumb to my lips, just as he had done that first morning in my home.  I heard him say in a voice burdened with sadness, "We are a strange pair, are we not? You sold our souls for silver, but only after I sold mine for carnal love. I was trying to teach you about genuine love when I did not even understand true love myself."

Sliding my arms out of my cloak, I leaned into Samson making certain my thinly clad breast brushed against his bare arm. Sensuously I purred into his ear, "You are wrong, Samson. You understood love better than any man I have ever known. Your touch awakened me in a way no other man had."

Taking his hand, Samson gently but deliberately forced distance between our bodies.

"I am the one who is blind, Delilah, but I am also the one who finally sees. My touch awakened you because I offered one thing no other man offered. I told you I loved you as a person rather than a sex object. But you did not know how to receive love; your heart had been dormant too long. I thought I could teach you to love me. I thought I could prove my love for you by telling you my secret. I betrayed my first love to try to win the loyalty of a woman who had distrust inbred. If I had shown you the love of Yahweh, perhaps we would not be here now, two pathetic people seeking lost power. You want to prove your power over me. I want to show Yahweh's power over the impotent gods of your people."

Laughing derisively, I countered, "What love does this god offer? He demanded that you subjugate your natural desires to prove your love to him. This Yahweh is not a loving god. He is no different from Dagon. He simply shrouds his lust and demands the impossible from his subjects."

"No, Delilah, you are wrong. I refused to listen to my God. I wanted what was forbidden. Even in my rebellion, Yahweh blessed me. While I slept with prostitutes and sowed my seed in forbidden pastures, He gave me strength. He allowed me to demonstrate His power with superhuman feats. When I failed Him, He gave me second and then third and fourth chances. Just as you betrayed me, I betrayed Him. Over and over again, I spat in the face of His love. Only as I have been treated like a blind ox grinding grain for my enemies, have I really seen Yahweh. His love surrounds me here in prison. I have repeated the words God gave the Israelites in my mind as I trudged around and around."

"You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments...Love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord...And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God ask of you but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to observe the Lord's commands and decrees that I am giving you today for your own good?...Be careful, or you will be enticed to turn away and worship other gods and bow down to them. Then the Lord's anger will burn against you... If you turn away and ally yourselves with the survivors of these nations that remain among you and if you intermarry with them and associate with them, then you may be sure that the Lord your God will no longer drive out these nations before you. Instead, they will become snares and traps for you, whips on your backs and thorns in your eyes."

"Don't you see, Delilah. My error was not in loving you. It was in loving you more than Yahweh. It was in failing to introduce you to my God and teach you His ways. When I allowed you to be my woman without surrendering your allegiance to Dagon and Asherah, I sacrificed my ability to serve my God. Yahweh is a God of love and of second and third chances. He even made us designate cities where men or women can flee who unintentionally have committed manslaughter. While they reside in the cities of refuge, they cannot be touched. But they must flee there to be protected. In the same way, I needed to bring you into the center of Yahweh's love so He could protect you. By failing to introduce you to my God, I failed you and doomed our love to failure. But I was weak, Delilah. I wanted you to love me, and I was afraid if I made conversion a stipulation of love, I would lose you. Instead, I lost you; I lost myself; but most importantly, I lost the blessing of Yahweh. Now that I am blind, I see clearly. I see the importance of listening to God's decrees. I see the impossibility of a divided allegiance. If you have come here to prove you still have power over me, look and feel," he concluded, grabbing my hand and directing it to his male hardness.

"You still have the power to arouse me, Delilah. You do not have the power to cause me to indulge my own lust. Your thin silk garments, your soft skin, your sweet perfume, and your honeyed words tempt me. But I am no longer weak, Delilah. I have learned a hard lesson. Yahweh loves me. Just as my father chastised me when I was a child and did wrong, Yahweh has chastised my human weakness. I love you Delilah and because I love you, I urge you to abandon the false gods to whom you cling. I have heard the whispers that you will be inducted as a priestess to Asherah so that Philistine men can taste of the sweetness that subjugated the Israelite strongman. Be warned, Delilah. I have prayed to Yahweh. He will restore my strength to prove that no foreign god is His equal. If you allow yourself to become a part of the temple ritual, you will be destroyed! Delilah, I beg you. Abandon this foolishness. Go to Hebron. It is located in the hills before you reach the Great Salt Sea. This is a city of refuge where an accidental murderer cannot be punished. This rule applies to Israelites and outsiders, those born into the worship of Yahweh and proselytes who convert from the worship of other gods. There you can learn of Yahweh without an avenger from my family trying to seek you out and exact revenge."

Standing and putting a hand on each of Samson's shoulders, I leaned down and hissed into his ear, making certain my bosom brushed his cheek.

"You speak as though you are dead and I have been accused of perpetuating the deed. I do not need to hide in some foreign city for protection, Samson. I am honored here. I will be High Priestess to Asherah. This body that still has the power to arouse you will bring honor and glory to the goddess. I came here because I mistakenly thought I loved you and wanted to give you one last taste of my love before it is denied you forever."

Lowering my lips I kissed Samson, putting all of my pent up feelings into the caress. Lifting my cloak, I deliberately left the thin gauze veil to taunt the prisoner. Calling for the guard, I said, "Goodbye Samson, my love."

As the door clanged shut behind me, I heard Samson call, "Remember what I said, Delilah. When the time comes, remember."   

Remember, remember. The word swirled in my mind like the natural whirlpool in the pond near my house. Anything that drifted into the lagoon was inexorably sucked into the swirling water. I wanted my rememberer destroyed so that I would be free from the past, but my mind was like that whirlpool. It continued to pull in memories and play back my past, haunting my present. 

Samson had gone in quest of the delicate Delilah, the child with the broken spirit. Little did he know that when he found her, she would be so damaged that she would demand his brokenness as proof of love. I could not risk her surfacing tomorrow. I had to banish her again. 

I was nervous, but not because of the upcoming ceremony. I had learned long ago to close my mind to my surroundings. I knew that when I danced in front of the crowds in the temple ceremony, I could retreat to that place where the young Delilah hid. I would be able to tune out the crowds and dance in the meadow with my mother.

What I feared was dancing a parody of intercourse with Samson. Even the grotesque, blinded giant had the power to unnerve me. He was the only one who knew me well enough to know about my secret place where I escaped from the world. Even blind he could see my vulnerability. He had proven that today in his cell. I did not know what he meant by his statement that I would be destroyed if I joined in the temple ritual. Would the flame of hope still held in the fragile hands of the delicate Delilah be extinguished forever, or would I die some terrible death brought about by Samson's jealous god? I was not sure, but I heard the certainty in his voice. Samson's warning had the ring of truth. Just as I had known when he told me his whole heart so I could betray his secret and bankroll my future, I knew he was telling me once more what was in his heart. He loved me enough to warn me, but of what?

Returning to my room, I dismissed Jabin and then checked to make certain my private stash was undisturbed. I had spent none of the silver provided by the city rulers for my betrayal of Samson. The money, some jewels that had been given me by besotted suitors, and a beautiful golden, jewel-encrusted phylactery were hidden in my room. They were my security. If I tired of the life of a temple priestess, I could take these things and flee. In a distant city I could live the life of a wealthy widow or courtesan, whichever I preferred.

Taking the phylactery in my hand, I stared at the jewel-encrusted box, remembering the day Samson had given it to me. Lost in the past, I ran my fingers over the amber sun and followed the ray that penetrated the green heart representing Delilah, the flirtatious prostitute, the Delilah that had seduced Samson and pried out of him the secret of his strength, the Delilah that had betrayed her lover. This Delilah would dance for the crowds tomorrow and humiliate the blind giant. This Delilah would serve in the temple of Asherah.

As I stared at the green emerald that represented the hardened Delilah, my finger slowly made its way to the small diamond center. Covering the purity of the diamond, I pressed down hard on the stone, determined to blot out the weak, delicate Delilah. I considered her a hindrance, someone who had the potential to betray my ambition. I wanted to rid my heart of her whimpering voice and her spark of love for Samson.
I pressed so hard, I pricked my finger on the stone. With a startled cry I pulled my finger back, but a small drop of blood fell onto the soft, creamy leather band designed to encircle the head. As I watched, the drop of red spread into the lines of the leather, staining the band near the beautiful jeweled box.

Cursing, I growled aloud, "Look what you have made me do now, you little sniveling imbecile. My blood has stained the beautiful leather of the band, decreasing the value of the piece."

Even as I lashed out at myself, I thought. "What is one drop of your blood. Because of you, Samson has sacrificed his beautiful eyes. Because of you Samson is imprisoned in a stinking cell. Because of you Samson is ridiculed every day as he takes the place of an ox to grind grain for the priests of Dagon. Because of you the opportunity to experience true love is lost."

As I sat and chastised myself, tears began to fall. My shoulders began to shake, and I covered my face with my hands. Sitting there alone in my bedchamber, I hugged myself and rocked back and forth while the tears fell like rain.

Tonight I would mourn for Samson. Tonight I would indulge the delicate Delilah, because tomorrow I would destroy the last vestige of her innocence. Tomorrow the young Delilah would have to be banished forever so that the flirtatious Delilah could dance the dance of love with Samson. There would be no secret place for the young Delilah to hide inside the hardened heart of the high priestess of Asherah. 

As I cried and rocked, I understood something of what Samson had tried to tell me. If I participated in the temple ritual, the Delilah that hid in the secret place would die. She would cease to whisper words of hope to me. I would have chosen to betray that Delilah, just as I had chosen to betray the Samson she loved.

While I cried, I slowly opened the phylactery and removed the tiny scroll inside. Through my tears I read the words, "Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength."

"Is it possible to love anyone or anything with all of your being?" I wondered. "What would it feel like to be loved so completely?"

Then I thought of Samson sitting in his cell telling me that only now that he was blind could he really see. I thought of Samson's belief that Yahweh is a God of second and third chances. The child inside of me pleaded, "Give me another chance, Yahweh, God of Samson. Let me love Samson the way he wanted to be loved. Just give me another chance."

Even as I voiced this childish plea, the cynical prostitute laughed in derision. "There is no god to listen to such a plea. Even if there were, he is no greater than Dagon. Dagon has imprisoned Samson. He will not let Samson escape. If this foreign god listens, he will be impotent in the face of Dagon's triumph. He cannot give Samson back his sight and he cannot give you another chance to love Samson. He is weak anyway. Samson betrayed his god for you. Neither he nor you deserve another chance."

Arguing thus with myself, I fell asleep.