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.
