I dreamt of falling down a well,
A narrow tube, deep beneath the earth,
Dark and moist, I saw a small child,
What’s he trying to tell?

He's trying to tell me that I'm not safe
If I stay in his world, unprotected;
But how can I not stay when
the child must?
His existence means a great deal more
to me than my own.

He's telling me that he belongs here:
He was murdered many ages ago
by his Uncle Jim.
Then his little body was callously
thrown in this well. . . .
Until now he has...