The Well

Note: So, last night my head hit the pillow and of course, verse began. I’d told myself that I needed to do a little visualization exercise and while I did so, a poem of sorts came out, so I need you to know that this is the visual of what went through my head before sleep overcame meDon’t panic! It’s just an exercise. If you know me, of all things you should feel relief by the end of this.

The Well

I’m holding on

Barely clinging to roots that push their way through earthen walls

Grasping with every ounce of strength I have left in me

My arms are getting tired; my fingers, numb

It would be so easy to let myself fall

But I don’t like the darkness that shrouds me down there

It’s damp and it’s cold and I feel so alone

My arms grow weary; my fingers, weak

How did I climb out last time?

Ah, the hand of my Sanity

There are so many hands now

Reaching down to pull me up

But I keep pushing them away

Still trying to figure out how to do this on my own

I need to do this on my own, for once

I reach up to grab another root, but my hand slips and I am left dangling

One arm, keeping me from the depths of the Well

I can do this

I close my eyes and breathe

A sob attempts its escape, but I stop it

I am done with tears of sorrow

Strength is what I need

I swing myself forward to grasp the root again

To pull myself up

One arm stinging with life; the other without sensation

I pull up, adjust my footing and reach again

It’s still dark where I am, but I can see a sliver of light

Maybe hope

Perhaps even dreams

My body is exhausted from holding on for so long

Just a little higher, and I can feel the sun kiss my hand

For once, it doesn’t burn

A little more… and I have reached the edge of the Well

I clutch the large root in front of me that covers the ground and pull myself free

My unfeeling fingers; my wearisome arms that held me in stasis

My aching body

Finally, my legs that held no purpose for me while I clung – no strength for me to stand

I kneel, and now that I am free, I look up

The sky is blue, and I am under a large tree whose branches sway in the gentle breeze

This time I don’t stop the tears as they fall, and I hug the tree with my worn-out arms; caressing its skin with my sore fingers

My head rests against the tree as it breathes new life into me…

And I smile, truly, for the first time in months

Because I am now free to start again

© 2009 N.L. Gervasio

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