"well," a poem by Jess Coffman

There is a deep dry well.
I squint my eyes, 
and peer with melancholy curiosity. 
But it's just as I'd expected...
no energy of living water,
too deep to see the bottom. 

There is a deep dry well,
hidden in a thriving forest of
redwood trees,
that have been threatened and 
and scorched 
by self-serving fires.
But still the giant mothers persist. 
They live in resilient silence. 
The fairy rings attesting to their 
loyalty and 
perseverance. 

There is a deep dry well,
that I always come back to 
after frolicking in the forest,
and attempting solace 
within the fairy rings.
I encircle its stoic stone mouth,
But my wishes never make 
the water appear. 

There is a deep dry well,
and one day after almost years,
of returning back, and finding 
nothing there,
I get brave enough 
to lower down a humble wooden bucket.

With flattened brow 
and anxious heart, 
I, with connected 
and cautious effort, 
lower the humble wooden bucket,
mouthing a prayer, 
for a trace of life at the bottom. 
My ears on high alert,
I finally hear my humble wooden bucket,
hit the bottom with a thud.
emptiness echoes upward,
and my little heart sinks to my heels. 
With distraught posture,
I pull what must feel like, 
a dead body,
up the stoic
stone well wall.
My biceps and back burn
as I labor with great sincerity 
hoping to birth, something alive.
hope, feeling sick.  
With heaving breath 
through gritted teeth, 
I examine my humble wooden bucket.
I am astonished to see
that the bottom is indeed wet!

I sip in a breath of life and love.
I close my eyes and smile,
involuntarily beginning to dance.
My mind at rest in pale periwinkle.
My arms back stroke through the air.
I skip in freedom.  
I pique within and around 
my friends, the fairy rings.
I leap to catch dandelion seeds, 
and chase the chipmunks, giggling.
But as emotion begins to recede, 
the silence becomes deafening.
my ears feel like two conch shells,
hearing an ocean that was never there. 
I reach upward to pull the joy 
back into my body. 
But the joy lifts up and away,
like a single red balloon. 
My eyes slowly open.
blackness. 

I'm alone. 
I've celebrated alone.
I've danced alone. 
The moonlight kisses
the back of my head,
and the stars lead me back
to my deep dry well.
I look down at the 
stoic stone mouth,
and see only blackness. 
I release a grieving sigh,
and living water ripples, 
catching my eye. 
disbelieving, 
I reach down tentatively.
I graze the top of the stoic stone mouth,
and with immense relief, 
soak up the wetness on my fingers.

There was a deep dry well, 
and it is filled now with my living water.
to drink, 
to take, 
to honor, 
to be reverent to, 
to be cleansed in,
to release in, 
to forget. 

JESS COFFMAN

These photos were taken while I was on a grand adventure discovering the Quarry Hill Botanical Gardens in Glen Ellen, CA. There were so many beautiful sights to see. 

I took a video of a natural spring, which I never seen before. 

It was several little springs, that eventually created and continues to fill this entire lake 

and all of the life within it. 

Don't ever assume that your little natural efforts, won't amount to a brilliant and fulfilling life. 

Peace, wellness and living water,

Your Jess