Back to the Well

 

Seeking the source;

that old well

that kept my family alive

for generations.

They wandered out of the East,

seeking peace and shelter.

War and persecution

had ravaged their home,

so they pushed West,

seeking freedom,

seeking life.

 

This old well

existed

when they found this place,

nestled in a little valley

and miles from the nearest river.

The indigenous peoples

that settled here before

claim it has always been here.

A mystery,

like much of this place.

 

My family settled nearby,

the well watered their livestock

in winter and summer.

They thrived,

and grew,

for every time

they dropped a bucked down,

it came up full.

 

I heard the stories

and I never believed,

how the water could heal,

or change a person.

The drink that was made with it

was regarded as unique

in its thirst quenching properties.

 

The farm flourished

through the wars,

but the modern world

drew the young away.

The property

was left fallow,

the land unworked,

the farm abandoned.

They boarded up the well

back in the Nineties.

The fear of a child falling in

was a big deal back then.

The land was rented,

time and time again,

but no one stayed

and the place went wild.

 

I am returning to the well.

These days

we all could use

a miracle.

A return to the land,

simpler times,

simple men,

and something pure.

 

There was a story

that this well had once

tapped the very essence

of life on Earth,

and that the life

that flowed

all along the surface of the Earth

originated there.

 

It’s just a story,

but as I drive west,

GPS set

to the coordinates

of the old, family farm,

I can’t help thinking

about who we are now,

and who we were then.

 

Water is life.

It is the past,

the present,

and the future.

From it,

all life rises.

So,

I am going back

to the well,

and forward

in time.

 

 

HG – 2022

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