Tag Archives: river

Creating Encounter in Colour: Rainbow Trout

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Speckled rainbow breathing water and knowing better than we do how to let it flow, gills gently moving in and out. Skin that reminds me of the surface of puddles settled under cars, driven off and leaving swathes of oily colour. Did God paint you to remind us of his promises, made to all life, no exceptions? Or have you just absorbed so much of the spectrum in your swim, bathing in pools kissed by sunlight, that it cannot help but ooze out?

Gliding in places we cannot find, secret eddies and glittering ponds fringed with the long tears of the willow that tinge and tickle your spotted hide with olive green, you spend your days gilded by mystery. You flick your fronded tail at disgruntled anglers, speeding past them with your raspberry stripes, making me glad we are now fishers of people, and can let you wend your rivery way onwards, supple and gleaming.

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt  Photo from Pixabay

158: Still Water

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Your deep peace is found in still waters, where rolling waves and whirling pools have ceased, paused momentarily, and the roar of your waterfalls is staying its breath, just for a short while. For this centre cannot hold for long, and is only part of the dance of flowing water, which is Spirit. So we stop, at the height of a pirouette, a slow-mo jeté jetty on the river of life, and see you, and smile. That loving gaze returned and all is set to rights, the wave unfrozen, the breakers roll on.

 

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

144: Waterfall

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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

 

143: Estuary

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Sinking deep, stretching wide, belly fulsome with water, here lies a strange and fertile peace. More comings and goings than ever, a release and a welcome of tides, trading salt for fresh,  Living Water meeting Dead Sea; and yet, here a stillness in the expansive mud flats born at the edges and a freedom in the largeness to be anything and everything, as the oyster catchers burst upwards in a frantic flourish, spooked by movement, a spill of white paint on the canvas of a low horizon. Rainclouds crowding in to gaze at their own reflections in the vast bay, before migrating across the ocean on streams unseen.

A yawning place, opening out for exchange, greeting the foreign, pushing out the excess, learning the difference between empty and full and regretting neither. In and out, to and fro, back and forth, the unforced rhythms of grace are louder and softer here than in any place that was merely river.

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015

138: Rivulet

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Unwanted, I imagine, hidden, invisible transparency, narrow as a ribbon. I flow, fast or slow, it doesn’t matter, no-one will notice. I make it over stones and round corners just because, well, it is either that or turn back on myself and sit pooled in the shadows. So on I go, the pain of inadequacy coiled in a core of current, wrapped round a vortex of sorrow, a limpid lamentation.

Yet it is only when I join my siblings; the others come from mountain high, thawed waters and collected tears shoved downhill; that we become a river and can own the name of our togetherness.

 

©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015