The Water

When I need to hold on,
I go down to the Water.
       To be Soothed
       To be Tamed
       To be Found.
Great, rolling swells of blue-green clarity murmur Old Stories,
And spill Truth into me with a steady cadence.
       Be Silent.
       Be Strong.
       Be Still.
I soak it up till my limbs are heavy with it.
It holds me up, holds me in, holds me down.
But silence I cannot keep, and strength will fail me.
So I will borrow Stillness- just a moment more.

When I need to let go,
I come up to the Water.
       To be Savaged.
       To be Wild.
       To be Lost.
Fierce, jutting peaks of jet-black ecstasy cry out New Songs.
And pound Truth over me in a violent rhythm.
       Be Raucous.
       Be Brave.
       Be Free.
A greedy, sucking tide bears me away, empty.
It tears me up, tears me apart, tears me down.
My voice gives out and my brave-face crumbles.
But still I thirst for Freedom- there is never enough.

When I need to be whole,
I look to the Water.
       I am Washed.
       I am Cleansed.
       And Made New.
Cool, fresh currents whisper Sacred Secrets.
And Truth shimmers all around me.
       Who I was.
       Who I am.
       Who I'll be.
Sweet abandon brings a full surrender.
I am pieced back together in strange and shining shapes.
I leave and remain and disappear and return,
Then a sudden, fleeting Fullness- fading fast.