I’m dying of thirst
Just a few feet away from water
Behind a fence
Of my own making
Why did I erect this fence
And cordon myself off
From the water
My parched soul pines for?
Because more than water,
Hydration,
A balm for my thirsting soul,
I need to stay safe.
I cannot risk being
Unprotected from the elements
And from… the water.
Maybe the water is contaminated
And is just not what it appears to be.
Or worse — Maybe there is just a tiny drop left at the bottom
That will tickle my tongue but never quite quench me.
And wait.
This water is not even earmarked for me.
Who am I to make use of public water,
To milk society for my nurturance?
And why would there even be
Pure, life-giving water
Available to just about anyone —
Even the most undeserving of souls?
Sometimes I envision the cool liquid
Dripping down my parched throat
Giving my shriveled self
Life and vitality,
Allowing me to believe
That the world has enough water
Even for me.
And then I wonder…
Should I scale the fence?
Take that leap?
But no.
I might get to the top only to tumble down
And get hit Harder than ever before.
Should I dismantle the fence?
Has the time come to take it down?
But, No, my innards scream,
Don’t!
You’re not even sure the water is what you need
And you’ll just remain defenseless
Exposed
Unprotected.
And thirsty.
So I tentatively peek between the slats
Where I can feel the mist tease my face.
It’s that close.
And then, splinter by splinter,
I painstakingly remove one slat
Chafing my hands,
Widening the gap in my armor
So I can squeeze through.
Panting, I inch closer
The sheer effort belying the slow pace
One step closer, and…
I freeze, terrified.
I rev up my defenses
Run for cover
Hastily retreat
Right back through the gap.
And I crouch behind
The sturdy, secure fence
That I built.
One Response
of course this one resonates so much!
And what about if the sweet taste of water on a parched soul makes us feel so much thirstier, and then we have to wait to get more.