From the Well

 We tried again. Lowered 

the bucket down the well. 

This time, he climbed atop. 

Grasped the rope and held 

on, feet occasionally

 bouncing off the continuous 

rough rock wall around him. 

 

But this time, this time 

his toes didn't wedge 

between the rocks to hold 

him against our straining 

up top, pulling with all 

our might. The higher 

 

he rose toward our voices 

and the pale sky, the lighter 

he became. Maybe this time 

he would cast off the bricks 

and boulders he'd been carrying 

that kept him at the bottom 

of the well. Maybe this time 

he would make it to the light.