Water's Edge
I come to the water’s edge so that I can remember. As the water overtakes the ground, I feel the lapping waves gently pull me deeper as they echo a call within. A call to explore the depths that are ever-present but often ignored. The call is strong, and the voice familiar. I hear myself, beckoning me forward; luring me inward.
I come to the water’s edge to find myself. As my body descends below the surface, a symbolic death takes place. A baptism if you will. I don’t love the water, but I need to hear its invitation and feel its strength so that I remember to face the chasms within.
I come to the water’s edge to be reborn. I arrive on the shore afraid, alone and resolute. As I step into the fluid unknown, dread invades my muscles and sits like ice in each fiber. As it encroaches, my eyes well and tears spill out. Tears for things no longer remembered but still known. Tears for horrors once witnessed and still felt. Tears for a version of me once innocent, and still vulnerable. The water’s edge is a tipping point; a liminal moment in space and time where I’m faced with a choice. Do I surrender or resist?
I come to the water’s edge to retreat. I want to leave the past in the past, but dammit, it never stays there. Like waves at high tide, the emotions surge one on top of the other consuming more and more space until past, present and future are no more. The water’s edge is timeless.
I come to the water’s edge to die. If I let myself, I could be swallowed by the ocean that lies within. I’m neither Jonah nor Jesus, so I don’t dare let those frigid waters engulf me. I step out for a moment and see if I can stay above the waves. One step, two steps, three and by the fourth I fall in, pulled under by grief, insecurity and doubt. Somehow I make it out, gasping for air as I drag myself onto the safety of the shore. Why do I keep coming here?
I come to the water’s edge because that is where my hope is reborn. The process of facing the depths within and feeling the enormity of my own emotion reminds me of every time I’ve been submerged and reborn. Despite my fear, the water always recedes and, I’m left with the truth. For a moment, I know myself more deeply, more intimately than before. The water is treacherous and safe. Terrifying yet comforting. Constant but ever-changing. I see myself in the water; and the water in me. So when I’m lost, unsure, numb or otherwise disoriented I know what to do.
I come to the water’s edge.