The Well
She spits orders, in Arabic, to the little boy
the melted face of a five-year-old.
“Hold-on to the rope!”
She gets another hold with her one hand,
her one good hand-
“Do not let it fall -again.”
The child grips the rough well rope with both hands
little bare feet spread and dig into the hard sand.
He strains with what might he has,
if he can hold the weight of the heavy bucket –
they will drink and live.
She turns the rope loose-
it jerks at the child,
her hand grabs at the bucket’s bail.
Maybe in heaven she will have two hands, again
and the child will not wear the scars of
justice and vengeance -
or the well will not be so deep.
Copyright © Mike Samford | Year Posted 2007
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