When spirit becomes heavy it turns to water— Carl Jung
When I am afraid
I inhale water.
My tongue is bathed
in birdsong.
A woman who
breathes in water
is chiseled in light.
At times, I despair
I’ve fallen from grace.
Fear grows thick shadows
under my scars.
I once used a wound
as a weapon. Wood
& stone were my shield.
Outside the petrichor
of summer’s first rain
is salve for my soul.
In the end what
will I regret?
When dawn blinks
I will be a postscript.
A woman like water
is the shape of the sea.
