Creature Speak


A Creative Writing Blog

The Language of Water

There is a melancholy whisper in my soul that beckons me to come close for a kiss in my depths when I am alone.

A hidden place only l know; a secret behind my eyes: the inexplicable thing people sense when they wander too near. 

Too akin to darkness for comfort, for them.  But for me, it is the liberty to move and sing in the night when everyone else is sleeping.

In the day I am ashes pounded into stone, a statue winking when you turn your back.  

The name you thought you heard someone say but there was no one to be found when you looked around.

Only an old abandoned statue of Venus, cracked with water still flowing from her mouth.  I speak in water and only sea creatures can understand, but I’m trapped on land. 

And when the sun finally backs off, and people are in their beds, the moon brings me a gift:  the churning in my chest and belly nobody knew I had 

that pushes and pulls in me with exquisite restlessness; the pain of solid things that are meant to flow.

With this ache, I am limitless in the place where I am free.  

And creation finds a way even through concrete, and in the cracks in the asphalt that remind you of prevailing life in the vines fed by the rivers below.

I sink beneath myself to answer the call of tears in the blackness of years to the lovely little Grief who only wanted a friend.  

With her lips on my cheek and her arms around my neck, I hold her tight and I am warmed until suddenly I thaw and break apart, overflowing.

Grief finally has permission to grow so there is no stone anymore, for She washes over me and through me and gives me a new shape.

I am human now by day with a song called Wisdom I was given in the deep for passersby to stay and listen to from time to time. 

By night, I am what I always was in the dark, even when frozen still.   

I release my hold on my surfaces and dive down into the Dreamworld where I am a Dancer in the Water, and where all my kind can hear every song l leave in my wake.

© 2022, Sheya Forest

Digital Art: Water Dance by Mountain Dreams.

About Me

I wrote my first story when I was a wee girl of three, followed by my first poem when I was eight. I’ve been writing ever since as a way to cope with life. This practice evolved with learning in both structured settings and through the practice, itself. In my own healing crisis, I found a process I affectionately refer to as Poetic Alchemy. Now on the journey of getting my life back, I do this not only for myself but for you.

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