*
‘Twas dawn when Marah went down to the well
To fill her pail with waters bitter sweet
The sky, flushed pink with daybreak’s blooming swell
Made rosy dewdrops glimmer ‘neath her feet
The well was hard to find, and deeply hid
Within the sacred forest’s leafy fold
With ivy dressed, and writ upon its lid
In graven letters, words of wisdom old
Here water calls to water, here a stream
May conjured be by sorrow to a flood
Should tears like fishes fall and catch the gleam
Of sunlight, then shall water rise like blood
The air was still, unbroken by the lark
As Marah dropped her pail in to the dark
…
As Marah dropped her pail in to the dark
She held her breath, and watched it disappear
Stood firm, and stopped her heartbeat, lest a spark
Of morning’s glory light a single tear
But pain is force, that seeks to find a form
As hard to stem as ocean’s endless roll
And ‘spite her will, within her broke a storm
That rose unwanted from her ancient soul
Her tears burst forth, and waterfalls of streams
Flowed down and struck the surface of the deep
And as they fell were lit by glittered beams
Of sunlight, and the dead were woke from sleep
The waters rose, grew violent in their swell
Thus so did Marah ope the gate of hell
…
Thus so did Marah ope the gate of hell
Thus so unlock the door of death and birth
Unleash a tide too powerful to quell
Unloose the grief of all the souls of earth
Made waters rise, to breach the old well’s rim
Pour up, and drown the flowers in the grass
Caused birds to cease in flight, the sky grow dim
And clouds to form as shadows upon glass
She stood aghast, as heavy as a stone
As whorls of water swirled around her dress
Stood drowning in the forest there, alone
Too late to pray, to hope, or to confess
The waters closed above her sorry head
As Marah joined the legions of the dead
…
As Marah joined the legions of the dead
Her eyes began to fill with blood and light
With all the tears that man had ever shed
With all the dark and horror of the night
And floating past her, man and woman, child
All weeping, weeping, screaming in their pain
Possessed by loss and loneliness, gone wild
With disappointment, or the guilt of Cain
Here unborn souls, who died within the womb
Here mothers mourning infants took to death
Here those imprisoned, tortured to the tomb
Who cried for life with one last feeble breath
With those whose love was thwarted or dismayed
In one unending terrible parade
…
In one unending terrible parade
The labourers, the weary hungry poor
Those men who lost each pitch and toss they played
Who only spake the raven’s ‘nevermore’
With those stood on the shoreline when the Ark
Set sail for freedom and new hope of day
And those who, as they listened to the lark
Were by some wave or bullet took away
The blood of martyrs mingled with the tears
So sadly shed by all humanity
By souls lost to the night, who met their fears
On mountain tops, on roadsides, or the sea
So this is pain, thought Marah, here is shown
More sorrow here than I have ever known
…
More sorrow here than I have ever known
More pain than I could ever comprehend
And yet this pain in some sense is mine own
To rise above, to conquer, and transcend
And with this revelation, Marah rose
Up through the deeps, towards the hazy light
Unwove her being from the tangled flows
Flew through the waters like a climbing kite
Up, up she went, past all the weeping dead
And blessed them as she passed, for bless she could
Then broke the waters with her joyful head
And breathed the air that blew so fresh and good
Across the grass where once a flood had been
As if had been a mirage she had seen
…
As if had been a mirage she had seen
Seemed all the world just light, on rock and tree
All colourful, all shades of blue and green
And all that pain become but memory
She heard a whisper, soft within her ear
Go forth, and hold this lesson in your heart
You sought for answers, and you found them here
Now take them to the world and play your part
She picked her silver pail up, and she ran
The well sat silent, watched her fade away
Sat waiting, for another questing man
To learn its wisdom on another day
This is my legend, for ‘tis mine to tell
‘Twas dawn when Marah went down to the well…
*
© Gail Foster September 21st 2016
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