When my breath is stale, cold and dry
rasping hard against my ribs
When my heartbeat thuds a hollow tone
upon a crackled skin
When the tender flesh upon my fingertips
feel neither heat nor cold
My feet no longer tread
the dampened earth
My dreams begin to wander
my ears seek out
the singing voice
of the Talking Water
foaming, splashing, dancing
over, under, around
darkened, rounded
boulders and stones
a fast moving river rushing
down the mountain
A voice in my dream
draws me ever closer
my feet and ankles
suddenly damp, cold
my knees and thighs
chilled, wet
I fall upon the language of the Talking Water
She feeds me once again
like so many years ago
when I walked her shores and stones.
I seek her now only in dreams
I am fed all the same
I breathe anew
My heart beats afresh
Fingers grasp life once more
Feet again tread a steady path
I walk with the
Talking Water.
mec
08182012
