The Water by Morrigan Hunter
As I rose for the first time in an eternity and
Ambled out my door and felt the warmth hit my near translucent skin and begin to heat it
The smothering heat engulfed me and I struggled to breathe, short of breath from lack of activity
I worked my way trudging toward the side of the river to escape the sun into the shady portion of the bank.
As I reached the river bank I inhaled the smell of thick air tinged with marine life. It hung heavy in the sticky humidity.
I leaned over and decided to peer down,
And I found that as I gazed into the murky surface in the shallow part that stood still,
It too gazed back into me and I felt inspected and explored.
I began to commune with the water and it with me.
I heard a voice ask, “My lovely, was it the beaver or a stone that stopped you? I, too, have run into this on occasion and it stopped my forward progress as well.” And I returned, “Dear one, it was neither but love that has me brittle and withered, having spent the better part of five months in the shape of a fetus, and I fear I may not move forward again!”
“Oh, no Mon Cherie, you shall, you must,” it returned and then continued, “Forward progress must be made, you must ebb and flow as I do going around or through and sometimes over the barrier in your path.”
“I surely am going through,” I proposed, “though I seem to find no light to continue toward.”
“Well come on in here and allow me to carry you and you can remain as a fetus in the womb if you like, for a short time, until the obstacles are behind us,” the river offered.
“I shall, dear one, I will take you up on that offer.” And I strolled into the depths of the water and allowed myself to be enveloped in it.
Author Morrigan Hunter is an amateur writer and follower of the Goddess and leads a simple life with her animals and plants in Kentucky where she studies and learns all she can about nature and the divine feminine. She is becoming an herbalist and homesteader in the foothills of the appalachians and connecting to the Earth Mother.
