/ hestia’s well /

The water above the pebble’s grime–
so composed,
so certain.
Mysterious
and stalled.

She went deeper than she should;
her light flickered
against the grounding slime–.
half trespasser,
half intruder.
In the depths she remained.

Day to night
night to day,
she arranged a hearth
from drifting ashes–
thick,
wild,
and hidden.

One crumb at a time,
little by little
bit by bit,
she loosened the embers
from her bare palms.

And on an ordinary day,
she left the cold light burning.
She let the ashes pull away.

Falling up
through the thick, stale water,
her hands opened–
empty.

And she received,
for the first time,
the warmth
of the merciful sun.