River Of Trust

Quest.

How do I describe the never-ending journey to the promised land? The search, the eternal longing for trust? What does it smell, taste, and feel like in my breasts, in my groin, and in my spirit?

I keep walking — uplifting my chest and my feet.

Drought.

When I descend into the desert, during dry spells when life-giving waters seem distant, my innate sense of trust, cradled by life and cosmic belonging, is lightyears away in another galaxy—unreachable.

I keep walking — with blisters on my feet.

Dark.

I am wild, traveling on the roads less taken, but doubts have made their home in me — in the crevasses of my soul.

Dare I be here when darkness descends on me and holds me tightly in its grip? I hear the faint sound of laughter in the distance and remain silent.

I keep walking in the darkness— stumbling.

Light.

When the sun comes in, I feel invincible and free. My heart starts singing in the afternoon glow. Trust becomes my home state. Will it last?

I keep walking on soft soil — star gazing.

Water.

The ocean roars and calls my name. Dare I follow the siren song? Will I drown? Will the waves sweep me away? Or will I remember how to swim?

I keep walking — towards the mists of the water.

Dream.

When I was little, I dreamt that monsters were on the bottom of the sea, waiting for my feet to dangle in the water. They would eat me alive, and I would become a rotten corpse floating away into oblivion.

I keep walking on rocks— I’ve lost my shoes and myself.

Trust.

Wake up, little girl. It’s not a dream but an illusion.

Trust the waters, even if you cannot see the ground. Flow, swim, splash, dry your feet on the shore, and dance naked in the sun.

Life needs you here.