A well so deep I could not see the sky
from where I sat enveloped in the dark,
yet it was there, the sun still riding high,
and you were there, remembering the stars.
As if someone had opened up the roof
and lowered down a paralytic God
to wait with me—what else was there to do?—
'til I could rise, take up my mat, and walk.
Helpless as I, you made no darkness bright.
There was no comfort in you, no defense.
You worked no miracles there in the night,
and when I prayed, you echoed my Amens.
And so we sat there in the oubliette,
a broken woman and her broken God,
a speck of dust and old, stale crust of bread,
until the darkness passed and morning dawned.
And when I rose and saw again the skies,
you became whole that sunlit grace to see,
who sank to be with me that I might rise,
that where you are, I, too, shall someday be.
Schloss Schrattenthal By Christophwu – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0 at, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=28869453
Trying something more autobiographical. The incident described here is from fifteen years ago; it’s not a current issue.
Kate Bluett 