Artesian Spring

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Abstract

ting for the family banter, the Artesian spring bubbling beneath me. My kids share stories about a math test, football practice, a new dance step.I remember the stories I wove about long bus rides in the minor leagues and the death penalty case I handled pro bono.Losses come like acts of God after the car accident, turbulence rocks me on my heels, I cover against the ropes, hurt, charred clouds clog my mind, vision blurred, I pray for the bell that nev

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er comes.Chairs scrape over linoleum tiles, plates clatter, I can’t catch a baseball with my boy, sink water splashes, silverware clinks, my daily task is taking out the trash, dishwasher hums, voices fade to other rooms. I close my eyes.Why does God hide in the silent catacombs, the narrow, winding labyrinths untouched by light, deep within the dark, rejected spaces of my soul? So many questions, burnt out torches in the darkness.</article></body>

Memories streaming out

I eavesdrop on the family dinner downstairs, thirsting for the family banter, the Artesian spring bubbling beneath me. My kids share stories about a math test, football practice, a new dance step.

I remember the stories I wove about long bus rides in the minor leagues and the death penalty case I handled pro bono.

Losses come like acts of God after the car accident, turbulence rocks me on my heels, I cover against the ropes, hurt, charred clouds clog my mind, vision blurred, I pray for the bell that never comes.

Chairs scrape over linoleum tiles, plates clatter, I can’t catch a baseball with my boy, sink water splashes, silverware clinks, my daily task is taking out the trash, dishwasher hums, voices fade to other rooms. I close my eyes.

Why does God hide in the silent catacombs, the narrow, winding labyrinths untouched by light, deep within the dark, rejected spaces of my soul? So many questions, burnt out torches in the darkness.