The Poisoned Well

By John I. Blair

Here we swim
At the bottom of the well.
Peering up, trying hard
To see the top,
To grasp what’s out there.

Sometimes our view
Is beautiful, intense,
Suffused with blue,
With sunbeams
Radiant, hot and fine.

But a lot more often
The hue is sadly marred
By what we’ve done,
By what we’re doing,
Mad perversions of the atmosphere.

Down here is where we live,
Where we belong,
And all the wrongs performed
Poison the well of air
In which we’re swimming.

©2004 John I. Blair