The Softness of Suffering

My suffering has fashioned a deep well
That communicates birds
To the dark ocean eye,
That slips deep and grabs
Hanging wings from the sky

That flows ancient rivers
Through the whispering endless heads
And in surges delivers
Its sermons to the beds
Of silent time, with lips pressed
Against the swell,

Each soft wavering line
Defined
By the endless strikings of the bells