The Spring
John 4:14
I asked about the pond we found
a little further from the house
than I’d been all my life.
It was full (even in drought
my father said) and I was glad,
it was clear (even with the glare)
I could see it was deep—
and I ran through
the grass (that came to
the edge) to look
but I slipped and
my foot sunk
in and my elbow
too.
I reached for some grass
and pulled myself out,
breathed deep,
then sighed,
then laughed at [to] myself and
stood up (with shirt off), and
backed away to get some distance.
I ran to the edge (full speed),
took a leap,
plugged my nose,
breathed deep
and closed my eyes.
I went back every day.
::
I dropped my bags (there were two).
hugged my dad.
kicked my shoes.
threw my shirt.
In the sun my eyes glared but
I lift my hand and jogged
through the grass and
sat my feet in with a smile.
I paused and decided,
rolled backwards and stood.
I backed up
and I jumped.
::
This time I flew in,
briefcase and tie,
hugged my dad and we sat
and talked for awhile.
I took off my shoes,
leaned back on the couch,
placed my hands behind my head and let my sigh out.
It was late when
I stepped into the kitchen,
opened the fridge,
glancing in,
but nothing looked good—
so I sipped filtered water,
walked back upstairs,
and told my eyes to close as I laid there.
They shot open quick!
Like white light through the window, I
yanked open the blinds and
looked across the field.
Threw on my robe, ran
out to the shed, grabbed
a shovel and a pickaxe (and
glad that I did). I
quickened myself to
the edge of the
water, took my shovel and
pickaxe and began to dig
wider
I tore the
grass, threw the
dirt in a heap,
breathing heavy with
every wide sweep.
After hours
My hands blistered
raw, I sat on my
robe in the dirt and cried.
I stood up and I dug.
I sat and I wept.
And I stood to dig again,
but I couldn’t stand anymore.
So I crawled myself to the edge of the pool,
saw the dirt
on my hands and my face and my hair
(even my teeth and my tongue and my smile)
as I [looked and] kneeled.
I closed my eyes
and slipped my hands in the water,
rubbed them slowly together,
as the cloud appeared
and disappeared forever…
I took off my robe,
I washed off my toes.
In measure I paused,
breathed,
and slipped myself deep, deep, deep.
It enveloped me.
::
I was older and further.
Heavy hearted,
Suspended.
I wept for my father with my face in my hands
and my hands in the water.
It held me,
complete,
—in it’s depths
I go farther.
::
Now I spend my days at the home of my youth.
Most mornings I wake and walk out to our pond.
Sometimes my eyes open
in the glare of the dawn and
I’m still in the water and
I’m still sinking deeper,
seeing the surface,
watching the lights flicker—
they dance on the edge
like leaves in the wind
and wish to look in,
and be as deep as I.
I just smile
and sink
and smile.
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