Near As Breath

Finding the well becomes a task.
Haunted, near forgotten
the once clear pool of water,
thump of the bucket,
smell of deep earth.
Still as the curving bonsai
I turn up to the rain,
cool air on my face;
what I want near as breath.
Now I remember.




5 Responses to “Near As Breath”

  1. Sweet one. Chthonic. Evocative.

  2. Well, I DO like this little poem.
    This poem is a photograph or a Tarot card called “The Well,” or a haiku moment.
    The narrator can be seen at photographic remove. A man stands by a well in a garden. We see a bucket and a bonsai tree, so that places him in a Japanese garden, which brings up all those associations–a rural or wilderness setting is ruled out by the controlled cut of the tree. Nature is honored but controlled on the one hand.

    On the other hand, the well is the source of all possible existence– it is chthonic, the deepest soul source. There is a bucket for the narrator to access the well of wild soul water.

    The moment is caught in time as the figure turns his face up to the rain. He is there for the suspended, aesthetic moment, “What I want is near as breath.”

    Then the coda, “Now I remember.”
    He remembers to live in that space between civility (the bonsai tree) and wilderness of the soul (well and bucket).

  3. David Banner says:

    Ah,remembering…I am reminded of Rumi….”if I fall, I get up, over and over again…..”

  4. Maria Jimenez Frid says:

    Thank you, beautiful to remember with you.

  5. Ravenstalk says:

    I am closer to you than the air you breathe ~ ~

Leave a Reply