of my fingers in Water...

...the Moons in me shift and turn... turn and turn... and I'm wearing my body, still trying to understand what it's made from... the Waters in me take shape: the proud grey Elephant- stomping, awakening my courage... it's loud these days..., soft tender Whale in me sings the prayers for Life, for my Ancestors..., for the silent echoes of the things to come..., the Deer in me, fast, as only she can- runs and runs, leaving all the hunters behind... runs and runs... It's so hard to stop... and do I really want to? 

...So hard I wished for my Waters to become that gentle Stone, that is there for generations, unmoved, strong, knowing... but by wishing that, I feel a crack appearing in me and with more time passing, it was getting bigger and bigger... just now I understand that all, what's inside- it has to be sung out, run out, written out, spoken out... whispered out, sat in silence for a while, then danced out, screamed out, cried out and after a while, after running with Waters in me, it starts to feel... it starts to feel, how in a place of my Heart birds make their nest, how in a place of my Womb roots of my Tree appear, how in a place of my Mind clear skies are open... 

... So here's me- unsettled, unsteady, untranquil, restful... with Winds in me, with Storms, with Rivers... with searching, with singing, with screaming, with Love... and with all this noise and uproar, I hit the glass like a summer bird... it's odd, how it seems, we are cared for, but all we are is a Planet in a glass box to look at. 

Maybe tomorrow the lid opens and my Deer will run to the Stars, just to run... 

elephant waiting for a friend, part 2

... in the frail moment of strength and confidence something brakes and it starts raining in my chest. Only for a moment I let myself be sunk with water, just for a while... to remember how to swim... then I float up, breath in deep all the whispers of Your dreams I keep in secret, and make them mine. The ones I don't cry about to anyone, the ones that make me tremble at night and think: " is this happening somewhere?"... In some close- distant world of hours full of mirrors and glass doors, vital with all we weren't fearless to become, dreams that were Yours and became mine are living. And this fills my heart with such sad proud feeling... that it makes me think of steps I took in an empty room and danced before crowds... and just before the ending the girl in me, whose story I was telling, stops and looks around... No one listens, no one watches... and it gets easier. Though, still... when my hair down catching a light through the windows and thoughts deep within I wish to be watched by someone to keep me here. If we create what we see... I'm still not finished.