The Well.

I wrote this last week, shortly after finishing "The Wind Up Bird Chronicle." It takes a bit of inspiration from a key event in that story and goes from there. Still not crazy about it, but it's a work in progress.




These curved walls only
bring darkness,
like a blanketing night sky
where I’m trying to locate and
connect the stars
but I can’t find the image.
If I close off the top
of the well
I lose all sense of time.

Submerged
deep within
a nothingness that prompts
everything.

When it chooses to open,
then time comes back to me
as the half moon rises
illuminating things for what they are.
And there I am.

Comments

[A.]

I really like this poem! I love that it's meter is somewhat unpredictable, because it feels like an untimed discovery--like the reader is finding out something that you are just finding out for yourself in the poem.