a visit with the hags

my back propped up against her for support, it is quiet at last. the bulldozer has turned off its incessant engine, all that scooping out of the sludge put to rest. what a lot of muck accumulates in the course of 30 years underwater!

nearing twilight, i sit now in the company of these wise old hags who stand vigil, their wet feet filtering the flow. i hadn’t realized that the reason she’d struggled so to surface was because her own young legs had been sucked into the mire. the bulldozer operator said a person would drown before she got free of that muck.

the water upstream from here is vibrant, young and wild. i visited it earlier today, followed its meandering course through boulder-strewn, moss-covered woodland. it will surely fill this carved out space with freshness.

i imagine a woman’s journey requires the influx of the girl from time to time, or always, to set the mired  one free.

all this dredging has made me weary again, although the sky is clearing at last after days and nights of heavy cover. surprisingly cool, an evening breeze lifts the corner of the day’s humid blanket. godde, how i wish i were less inhibited. i’d strip and let it dry my clammy skin. but the grasses here would no doubt scrape my back. last year’s grasses, they are crackly and dry.

looking up, i notice the old one next to me is wrapped in vines like an old woman bedecked in strands of costume jewelry. i can almost envision her hat strewn with flowers and beads.

an owl startles the silence with his exclamation point.  no doubt i am in his kitchen and it is time for his dinner (or breakfast whatever the case may be). a woodpecker drills over my left shoulder, seeking nourishment in dead wood, the peepers trill to my right, and the sun dips into the treetops like a cookie into milk before bed. the water continues to flow at my back, gurgling more loudly than it seems it should. we are all hungry it seems…….

last night, a ladybug found its way into my sleeve as i slept. an answer came quite clearly, though when i awakened it slipped right through my heart and back into the darkness. it seemed so certain! it suprises me that it would disappear so easily.

i wonder, can she smell me? this creature who come at twilight. i see her footprints in the mud. i know she comes to drink at night.

i drink at night too, thirst quenching dreams of eagles and girls, of blue gowns and fluorescent deep sea eggs.  yet in the morning all that remains are these tracks in the mud. sometimes, I can identify the visitor, but more often there is no name i can give her. i know only that something drank deeply, then crawled back to sleep as i woke.

i yearn to meet her gaze some night, to see eye-to-eye the light flashing, the timid stillness.

how to reassure this creature inside of me that i intend her no harm?

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Carolyn
    Apr 06, 2012 @ 09:31:12

    Thank you, Vicki, for being the observer to the wonder of the natural world and to its wild counterpart within us. Yes, we are connected to the energy that powers the self – sustaining ecosystem you describe so vividly and we feel that energy in our daily lives even though we often seem disconnected from it. At those times, I join you in willingness to observe it within with the same love that “intends no harm” and that comes across in your description of the outer world.

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