from the Hebrew: to return, ask forgiveness, make amends
A word lies buried at the bottom of the bluestone well,
obscured in gurgle and murk, holds a secret
and likes it that way—
once this word called someplace home but it grew up
abandoned and feral, scissored its own hair,
with no wink back
at what was left behind, broomed away before remorse
had a chance to bloom. In this new year,
maybe he’ll roll out
of his sullen bed, an urge to prove, finally, he doesn’t want
to live in squalor and dank, dim-eyed
from the dark—
he’ll flash a glint of regret, a latent longing to drop
to his knees, raise his face to the well’s opening,
and call for a witness,
someone thirsty and wronged, so he can say sorry,
speak his own name.
