Mary E-A. K. Remaniak Poetry

Kneeling by the green bank
Of the old grey well.
Seeing my reflection in the water there.
Who knows how deep it runs
Down into the earth?
Who can see what springs beneath it flow?
There is a saying all who come
While tired, worn, and hurt
Are healed at her walls,
Cleansed by the streams flowing within.
So goes the story that the water
Comes from within the weary one
And flows into the well that takes away the pain.
Other streams run from the well
And leak into the heart of one who's ill.
Purifying of all sin, all stain, all contamination.
Washing clean the very depths of the person
Calling out to be cleaned.
This magic stream's waters burn
And tear the insides as they are consumed.
Yet in the pain, one is relieved of all the burden
They once had there.
The sorrow of a moment is gone forever.
A smile upon my face as I arise,
Have been cleansed by the water.
Feeling refreshed, light, and joyful,
In control of what I feel.
And when necessary, one can always return.

Poet: Mary E-A. K. Remaniak