For Once, Then, Something
Others taught me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
Me myself in the summer heaven godlike
Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs.
Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths–and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.
There is a certain ambiguity and elusiveness in this piece that fits my current mood.
A tragedy has occurred in my life that I feel very uncertain about how to deal with it. My oldest step-daughter, Erin, was 21 weeks into her pregnancy when she went into labor. Mason was stillborn. As tragic as this is, it seems doubly so for her. 3 years ago this month her first son was born at 28 weeks and lived for only 45 minutes. Erin has been a part of my family since she was 9 (she’s 23 now) and it’s just so hard to see her go through this.
I’m not looking for sympathy, only wondering what we can do to help her through this. It’s so hard to watch her have to bury another baby. The funeral is tomorrow and I just feel numb.