Nancy Lister Swayzee

My sorrow is as deep as a well
An artesian spring, pure and clear
The many forms of my grief
As clear as a bell
I lay deep in the well
Below the level of my tears

At times I cannot breathe
Because my chest is compressed
By the weight… of my life
I always feel certain
Because of the strife
My heart will break
But the paths keep appearing
And in my hesitation
I lose sight of which path to take

So I look to the sky, through the top of the well
Looking for light…and a rope to be lowered
But this is my well, and this is my grief
To struggle to climb - or to stay in the well
To stay in the well, until my eyes close.