Well Water

I drink bitter water
at the well of mortality.
I find no solace
in being here alone.

Willow branches
droop before weeping
as I bend down
to ladle life

water. I am kneeling
at the alter of my
heritage, looking
this way and that

for you. You, however,
hopped into the well
bucket and rode
deep into the earth.

And I stood there,
alone at the well’s
edge thinking I should
turn around and run.


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