Poem: “That Well”


That Well

When I was a child of four
Beneath the surgeon’s blazing light
I walked along a burning road
Sun upon me while I bled

By the road I saw a pump,
A handle to bring water up,
Iron black in summer heat,
I struggled near on my small feet

Oh pump of iron, pump of grace
I thirst while blood runs down my face,
Let me drink from that deep well
Of which the Christ of water tells

Foretelling then and now and when
Most merciful to us He sends,
As like a child I might attain
That well and ease my thirst again

October 23, 2011


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