The Well of Grief Those who will not slip beneath The still surface on the well of grief Turning down to its black water To the place we cannot breathe Will never know The source from which we drink The secret water cold and clear Nor find in the darkness The small gold coins Thrown by those who wished for something else -David Whyte-About the Author: Anne has been a hospice nurse for nineteen years; she is also is a teacher and a Life-Cycle Celebrant. She lives in Michigan with her husband, John. They have three children, one granddaughter, and one more grandchild on the way!