The more time I spend submerged.
The more I find pieces of myself that have been buried.
The creator, the lover, the friend, the child, the woman, the forgiver, the dancer.
As I fall to the bottom with more love to myself, I think, one day, “I may be able to share that love again.”
Standing on the bottom, rocks in hands to hold me there.
The only restraint being prisoned beneath my ribs.
I feel alive.
So alive.
Each time, each time - I am told we are done - a small wave of grief passes.
I leave pieces of myself underwater and it is hard to leave that person.
It is hard to have to come back to dry land.
But I will continue to do what I must, so that I can return.
If it is dollars the people want from me, let me continue to serve in ways that will sustain my heart and my community.
I will adapt; I am a creature of creation that is creative.
I have right intention in my pursuits and will do my work to return to myself.
Forever in the waters awaits me; for now I am still learning reverse metamorphosis.
There are obstacles here on dryland that I must venture. These will build my gills and strengthen my adaptability.
So that I may return; whole to myself.
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