Pale blue lady, aqua mantled, kindness gazing out from your alabaster face, carved deep into the rock and our hurting souls. You smile, and the world is changed. Adoring the love on your dappled skin, ripples of reflected grace, the water feels less cold somehow, though we are up to our necks; and the tide is of no concern, merely the sea breathing: in and out, in and out. A caverned womb of healing, where we might be knit together once more, and our stretched sinews feel the call to entwine and relax. We go under and rise again, replenished by the carrier of living water.
© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016
Photo from Pixabay
The curtain calls, and I long to push through to the other side, out of the cavern and into the light beyond. But endless years hold me here and the fear of getting soaked prevails. Veils of cascading current, collected teardrops fallen from clouds of burden, here released into flow that intrigues my fiercely beating heart. Could I really come forth and join in the droplet dance? Is there a place for a human form amongst the pearls that leap joyfully from on high? May I stand, then, drenched in downfall and saturated by silver light?
Then I will dare, I will risk the chill and the wetting, I will rend the perfection of the membrane and be born again. I will stand and lift my head, open-mouthed to the flow and laugh with outstretched arms inside rampant rivulets of grace.
©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015