I was trying to write a blessing…and this came out. I don’t usually write poetry and certainly don’t consider myself a poet, but I like what happened here.
May you remember, on the days that you feel stuck—
feet in the mud, toes locked in the muck—
that this is not all there is.
May you remember, when “Reach up!” they say or “Reach out!” they cry,
that maybe the place to reach is deep inside.
May you remember that the place you’re being called is maybe not above ground.
Strain to listen and, if you can, turn your ear to the sound
of the voice calling to you in stillness and earth.
What would happen if you let yourself grow
—not up and out, but down and low?
Centered in yourself and that nurturing soil
with roots deepening, lengthening, and continuing to toil?
May you remember, when the days seem bleak,
That you are so very far from weak.
That it might not look like much from up above,
But your roots, your body, your soul, were all planted with love.
Rebecca Ajer Frantz, 2021
Drinking from a Deep Well 