Flow of water, what can you teach me?
I am lost, lost like a child-
But there are lost children in all of us.
We all share it: those first terrible moments outside of the womb.
Our primary wound. Universal. Lodged in the space between memory and DNA.
And we spend our lives trying to return to this comfort we cannot remember. Our first home.
Seeking those wisps of sensation. Murmurs of comfort. The yearning to know: we are safe. We are loved.
A feeling that comes from the inside out.
Water mother: find me here floating, suspended in water, deep in the center of myself.
Teach me to contain myself like a small pool of light and moss.
Teach me to unfurl like the gentle hand of a fern.
Teach me to pull in and tendril out again like a brave little tributary, tasting new ground.
Water mother, teach me to change. To reconfigure. To stir up the river bed in the river bed in the winter, so when summer comes we can find beautiful stones uncovered from last year’s mud.