Well, Well, Well...

a true story

Photo by Oshin Khandelwal

There stands a well
 A large bucket suspends from the strong pole
   crossing above it
A pulley system allows for the lowering and lifting of water
   by the thick rope threaded there

I climb into the basket
   take in my own hands
   the reins of the rope
Hand over hand I begin to lower
  my Self
  deeper by phases
  into the well

It takes decades
  and much muscle
I am tired
  but I find tirelessness

The work is meticulous 
  and careful
I must pause often
  to find my air as I descend

I despair at intervals
  there may never be water
Living water
  I know better and better
  I cannot live without
I toil with greater abandonment
  at this awareness

Perhaps I will not survive
  in this dark and airless
  lowering
I have died trying before
  I have died still toiling

It registers more deeply
  I have long since
  made the commitment
I have lost everything
   already

Here, alone, descending
   in darkness
     without breath
Fear holds nothing in its grasp
   Too late, my brother
I laugh out loud realizing this
   the sound of my own voice laughing
   startles the silence

Renewal seeps into weary arms
Movement stirs in the air
   Coolness

I enter water

It is deep and I am swimming
   the bucket abandoned
my cramped limbs move freely
The well water 
   becomes a great sea
   under a great sky

It takes me where it will
   tossing me about and
   frequently under
So that I know
  it has me
    It has my every cell and fiber

It can and will
   do as it pleases with me
with the utter insignificance
   of me
I am at its mercy
  and when this is known to me
  entirely

I am held beyond
  anything I know as possible
in arms that can readily drown

that send instead a man in a boat
who scoops me up in a torrent
   of screaming cursing livid fear
who will not abandon me to die

And I am returned safely to earth
   delivered in strong
   and relieved arms
into the care of companions

It takes three more decades
   to know what the ocean 
   is showing me
on this day
   I do not drown

Hand over hand pulling
   ascending in this familiar well
My ears slowly begin to hear music
   eyes slowly begin to see beauty

Again, the boat comes for me
   this time without cursing
   without fear
in partnership with the sea
   and its deep memory

my Self at the helm