At the bottom of the well, the air is damp and
it’s so dark I barely see my hands.
Down here, I move through my memory without
interference from the above-ground world –
I think so clearly that I travel through walls and
jump into dreams and hop back out.
What is the self? And can I exert my will to
create a new self – free from the baggage of
my past? Down in the well, this is possible:
Sunlight reaches me for thirty seconds each day,
and when it hits me, it’s as if God’s grace fills me.
I may starve down here, I may die of thirst,
but I’m unafraid. At the bottom of this well,
I fear nothing – and everything is within
the grip of my mind.
Note: This poem was inspired by a recurrent theme in a novel by Haruki Murakami entitled, “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.”