Saturday, February 18, 2006


[Image source]


An old stone well
in a forgotten valley.
Blackberry webs and wild roses
mark the space, fragrant sage,
tall grass.

Childhood hours spent
dropping stones into the blackness,
waiting for the splash
that never came,
no sound,

as though the well
were a shaft descending
directly into a void.
Gazing within
this dark, mysterious hole,

I imagined lowering
a rope, descending
into cool earth, but
never dared confront
what I might find:

A blank slate
encased in mossy stone,
dreams projected
onto its murky surface,
a twin face looking back.

Even then, only ten, I sensed
at the bottom
of that fathomless tunnel
a shadowy part of myself,
an other seeking sunlight.

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