my heart, my well

Credit: Deborah Koff-Chapin

Sometimes, when I read over the writing done in our inside circles to transcribe them, I find it hard to believe – even though I was there! – that these words poured out on the spot, without revision or premeditation. They tumbled forth onto the page just as you read them here. In this case, prompted by the image (left), part of Deborah Koff-Chapin’s “Soul Card One” series.

Women love writing in response to these cards. As was true for tonight’s writer, quoted below, pain and despair live so close to the surface. Given the opportunity to write, she pulls the words straight from her heart and drives them home to ours.

My heart is a deep well
turned copper from too many pennies,
every hope, every dream.
Hope and love splatter my insides.
Hate and regret live there, too.
Dark scars from Self spread thin
unable to recognize myself.
Looking deep within
there’s barely a trace,
a faint glimpse of me deep in that well.

It’s me splattered everywhere,
everything I once believed in worn out.
Self fading. My well filling
with something I don’t recognize.
My heart, solid around the edges.
The middle still gold.
Why is my deep well drying up?
I’m suffocating myself. Suppressing
everything I am. All the wonderful things
about who I am slowly sinking
to the bottom of my wishing well.
Lost and forgotten,
shimmering only once in a while,
if the sun hits it just right.
A short glimpse, a flicker of who I was
not too long ago. Then it fades. Back
to dark, to deep.

How can you see me
if I can’t even see me?
All my features blurry lines. I fade
dark blue. Light blue. Some shade of grey
then white. Nothing transparent. I hold
secrets that no one can see. Just feel
in my deep shades of blue. I’m worn down
almost smudged out. Worn thin.
Blank stare. Don’t look down.
I fear I might see that shimmer,
small glimpse of self. Looking out
from deep within.

SS

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