For we are the energy keepers. We cannot touch like others.
It's far too much.
There is barely calm or comfort.
Yet ever present is the fear of what will be absorbed.
And what will come to visit again in the night
It dates back to the energy of the hands.
Spoken in a tartan tongue the day we laid him to rest
Her mother had told her...
Then others were told...
Then me...
and then one day more I suppose.
Then back to the beginning.
Do not numb it.
It is a gift.
A gift wrapped in the curse of burden.
We must learn early not to drown in the air.
Water is the only thing that clears.
Small ones sleeping in tubs and by rivers and lakes.
Dancing in the rain.
Older ones naked in the rain,
paying homage to the sea.
It dilutes all, washing it away.
We become quagged with humanities poison if we
bypass the water journey.
It is needed like wings need the sky
desired like soil begging the penetration of roots.
Overwhelmed, my salty brine weeps from me in sleep.
I hold tight
for it is
a passing storm.
Gnothi Seauton - Know Thyself
Namaste
