water is like language.
i am dripping, standing rain soaked, tear stained, body slick with wet. my dress clings and there is an impulse to strip it away to lessen the layers that contain this pulsing tide inside. i tip my head back and open my mouth to fill up with what's pouring down to keep in what's trying to come out.
i want to splash through mud puddles and forget the fear of failure, the fear of not enough, the fear of tears staining pillows in dark rooms with strangers. I want to step into the river and take on a new shape releasing the boundary of this story, this body, so i may be re-birthed, refreshed, renewed.
but it is only raining and even though my heart aches i am not crying blood.
i'm merely bleeding the steaming richness of life's potential. lives un-lived, babies unborn. bleeding. fertile flooding soil that becomes the ground on which i am reborn. a fluid circle a moving spiral. the tides within me, streaming, flowing ,making waves.
a language. a dance. water, my body. water cleaning the sky. water the ocean, an endless fluid tide. taking on any shape. ever circling the center, the place where i stand.
water. a language. no words required.