Today I spent some time on the beach, embracing the sun, walking in secret dreams. Thoughts coming and going, a silence lingering inside as my memories engulfed me tenderly.
There were flowers in the sea. Petals unfolding towards me: a delicate moment of me with myself. I floated away listening to all the words my hands couldn’t say.
Immersed in perfect water, I returned to my mother’s womb – my mother…I love her! She taught me to be free. I spread my wings and flew away. She asked me: “Would you like to be a bird or a butterfly?” I didn’t know. All wanted was to fly. I was so young. I was still exploring my feathers, trying to understand doves and eagles but I remember I fell in love with butterflies since then. I have a lot of them all around me and I always wear a crystal butterfly pendant to remind me of the profound changes of my soul.
I dived into that warm water, a baptism. My hair floating. I was a mermaid without voice. Suddenly a wave of melancholy crashed onto my shore and I could see everything happening again: happiness and pain, the lake calling me softly, our lazy moon dancing, your voice whispering: “ you are my lady of the habour!”I was. I was. You cast your anchor, my arms sheltering you, my waters so inviting. Something in me dissolved the past in iridescent bubbles in the air. Photos, old photos, you wrapped up in my hair, our garden laughing in flowers. My yesterday cried. A tepid tide I could never leave behind because it is here, it is here right before my eyes, in my communion with water, in this liturgy of love and past.
I felt life emerging in my veins. I swam across my heart for some minutes. Eyes closed. I was going nowhere while past was crucifying me, a bloody rite of carrying my cross silently: my via crucis in the ocean. My secret waters overflew and I felt everything again without regretting a single day, without fear or despair immersed in that beauty life once presented me with love.
When I decide to go home, it was already late and the sand was cold. I noticed I had grown old. Maybe I had gotten stronger too. I opened my eyes: I am still waiting at the harbour, my ever open arms towards the lake. Nothing died. You still breathe, you still breathe in me.

Karla Bardanza

1 comment:

  1. Water is the reflection of the soul, of memories, of the sun and sky. Water is bouyant, all things float on it. And water is soothing, healing and timeless. This is a beautiful poem Karla! And a treasure trove of childhood memories, of ones blessed mother! tc