the still surface on the well of grief
turning downard through its black water
to the place we cannot breathe
will never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water, cold and clear,
nor find in the darkness glimmering
the small round coins
thrown by those who wished for something else.
~ Davie Whyte, Many Rivers Meet
1 comment:
such a deep well of thoughts...i cannot imagine or pretend to understand tricia but YOU understand and feel them!...
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