These days I drink from a deep—
perhaps bottomless—
well.
A well of sorrow,
where my pain is our pain
is the world’s
and the pain of all
that we loved
that has passed away.
Changing is softening,
is a dissolving
of the heart
over time and repeated
tears as you find you love
what always fades beyond your grasp.
Yes, autumn is here, my dear.
The color of leaves,
breathless as we stand
before the immensity of winter’s embrace.
Do not give up your sorrow so easily,
nor let that drunkenness consume you.
But reach,
deep,
deep down,
into that well where we are one
and all our pain collapses
into the miracle of
this great mystery.
All becomes sacred,
becomes holy.
Even the scattered leaves
collecting on the sidewalk;
the crow cawing in the tree above your head;
the tired father
carrying his child;
and the scattered whisperings
of your aching heart
amidst a busy, weary world—
holy as it is.
Walk with me
to this well,
and let our tears fall
and hearts be open
to winds and mists
and dark places where light doesn’t shine.
Here, you buried a treasure, long ago.
Yes,
I’ve been drinking
from a well so deep
my heart breaks to fathom.
I offer you a cup,
and invite you to watch
how you dissolve into the sacredness
of a dusty, earthen life.
Today I drink from a well of sorrow.
Tomorrow, I may find it is the well of my joy,
equally bottomless.
