at the bottom
of a dark, deep well
lay old stones, silt,
the residue of
memories, so silent,
waiting in black
for a light, hopeful,
bright and shining,
that never comes

here was born
this fear that lives
and breathes, alive,
patient, ready
to climb slick walls,
claw up and out,
breaking free
from its womb,
this tomb, its home

one thousand tons
of earth and sand
could fill it full,
bury it, cover over
the mouth, pretend
it never was;
but I would know,
and always feel
its weight, surfacing

no faith of mine
survives such depths,
sour, oily water
swallows all whole,
dragging it below,
to abide in shadows
cold as the grave,
unable, unwilling
to let go

This poem speaks for itself, I think. Most unpleasant, painful and even terrible things long-forgotten or buried come back someday, somehow. All it means for me is that they must be acknowledged, faced, as I’m able. Most times the problem is overcome, but not always. Sometimes the struggle just goes on.

If you liked this poem, please read through my poetry collection. You can also purchase my book, Gone to Ground: Selected Poems & Essays, available on or through your local bookstore.

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