Well

Sometimes I am down a deep, dry well.
There is space enough for me to move, but not enough for me to walk around. I can't lay down to sleep, I can't walk away. There is a thin ladder through which I could climb, but I don't. Perhaps I am more afraid of facing the world outside than of staying here. I look up, though, and see the blue sky far above me. The days pass by, and I keep watching up, following the clouds that pass by.
I wake up with rain on my face. It is night. The sky is dark and a pale moon is barely visible through the clouds. The rain stops, and I can smell the wet earth above me, the sweet smell of night flowers and growing grass.
I have never imagined that silence could have echo. It does. Down here, everything is different.
I am tired now. Somehow, I managed to sit against the wall. After enough time, the unbearable can become comfortable enough. I look up to see the dawn arriving through the change of colors in the sky. It may not be much, but this is home.