The waters of my life

Day 126

photo by Michelle Johnsen

photo by Michelle Johnsen

There’s the water I was born from. Salty as the sea, warm, amniotic.

And then there’s the waters of my childhood, with bubbles in the bath, with chlorine in the pool, spring fed in the Gretna Lake, crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

And then there’s the waters of my travels, hot springs in Arkansas, and Texas,

and the icy cold creeks in the canyons of Big Sur, and the rain falling in sheets in Oregon and Washington,

The Pacific Ocean, with it’s whales, and seals, giant trees, and crashing waves.

The lakes of Winnipeg, Manitoba where my grandmother lived, great, large bodies like seas,

And the smaller lakes of Vermont, and Maine,

wild with Otters, Beaver, and Moose.

There’s the water of my homeland,

The wide Susquehanna, The muddy Conestoga, and the meandering Mill Creek.

There’s the water that carried my nephew, buoyant, birthing, new.

And the water my own son sailed here on,

Soaking, salty,



tell me your sorrows, so I might carry them with you,

hold them in my own cupped hands.

We are the same.

Thank you for listening,




One response to “The waters of my life

    I want to make my own list!

    Lake Michigan, great lake.
    Cayuga Lake, finger lake.
    Lake Victoria, African great lake.
    Wiscoy Falls, Letchworth Falls, the water under lattice bridge where we spent so many college-day hours….
    Ithaca Falls, Salmon Creek Falls, Cascadilla Falls.
    Skiing across frozen Dryden Lake & the dreaded fear of falling in.
    The creek behind Lambine Hall, welcoming me home.
    Snowflakes on my cheeks.
    Tea in my favorite mug….

    And yet….

    wild water,
    water, water, everywhere,
    to drink.

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