Creek Life

 I need to be by water now and then

when life's hard edges scratch the underbelly

of my soul. Hot sand beneath my feet

connecting me to waves that welcome

with a cool embrace. Breeze-kissed lakes

with surfaces bejeweled by the sun and

celebrated by a family of cranes. It's fun to

speed along a river underneath a brilliant sky,

mindful of the skier that I pull, impatient

for my turn to ride the wake. These choices

are accessible (the last, perhaps now relegated

to my memory). This morning, though, I yearn

for something out of reach, the creek

I miss, the happy gurgling dance of water

over rock, the shock of icy feet. Self-confined to

shallows, 'cause I know that underneath

the ocean's surface there be monsters.

Lakes and rivers may hold perils too.

But creeks, their liquid energy that teems

with life and cheer have little time for

drama. If the oceans are our mothers,

and if lakes and rivers are our kin,

then creeks must be our lovers.

Creeks must be our friends.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2023

The Bends

I've got the bends.

Deep in the ocean of your presence
I had all the oxygen I needed in
just the way I wanted, all the warmth
and life and strength. The call back
to the surface came too soon.
I rose too quickly,
spanning time and pressures,
leaving you for what? And why?
Awareness of the answers
didn't hold me back or slow
me down, ascending to the surface
where the sun shone much too brightly.
Too much nitrogen inside my veins and vessels,
too much me still holding on
in bubbles of despair and separation.
I should have left more slowly --
kinder, gentler rise back to the harsh reality,
the waves and foam that are my life
without you. Dizzy thoughts, my joints complaining,
feverish attempt to tough it out.

I need a decompression chamber for my heart.

Or better yet, one day pull me back, back,
down to the depth of calm where irritating sounds
are swallowed by the vastness of the sea and we
can drift unfettered, singular, at peace so long
that gills will form upon my throat and I will be
a creature of the land no more. A foolish dream,
one fueled by the fever of the bends, no doubt.
A few more hours or a day and I'll adjust.
I'll find the oxygen I need the best I can
but yearning still for water.
And for you.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2020

An Apology to the Body

I'm sorry, skin.

You got so dry
when I forgot to drink more water.
Forgive me, please?
I promise to do better.
I'm sorry, muscles.
Tight and bunched and
filled with sludge because
I need to drink more water.
There's no excuse; it's free!
I have to make it
a priority or I'll be sore -
you'll scream at me until
I get the message loud
and clear, okay already!
I am sorry, blood.
You work so hard but
even you can't operate at
peak efficiency unless
I keep you liquid. It's
not personal (I mean, it's
that and so much more).
I know
I must
have water,
but

I don't always remember.
I don't always think about it.
I don't always stop what
I am doing and go pour
a glass and drink it down,
so simple when you put
it down on paper.

Which reminds me.

Brain? You there?
I'm sorry.
Dehydration isn't kind.
You try your best, but
it is all my fault when you
slow down, get depressed,
when what you want
and need, demanding
it as well you should,
is water.
Water, purely, neither
acid nor a base, but
what my body craves.
What, in fact, each body
craves, no matter what
the color of the skin or
how expensive are the
clothes upon it.
Water.
And we operate with
self-destructive
dryness when the answer
is as close as that.
A metaphor.
And yet, also the truth.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014

Spigot

Hopefully these fellow bloggers
will be flattered if they see I
borrowed a photo from their site:
http://thetimandmaureengoodwingang.
blogspot.com/

Impatience raised its ugly head and made me think
of all those kinks that choke off, from the hose
of life, the cooling water I would drink if only
I had time. Life used to flow so smoothly, freely,
one day gushing gaily to the next,
but this is not what I expected to be doing at this point. Scratch that, for now I see that I expected nothing, really, didn't calculate or figure, just assuming that my journey would start out at pleasant, on to good,then grand. Perhaps that was the problem, which is good news, really, for I have a plan today, to cut the knotted hose part off, guzzling
ice-cold life right from the spigot if I need to. All I know is that I'll never turn the water off again, and should somebody try to make me thirsty for refreshment, I won't even, likely, notice, for hydrated people never wait until they're dry to take a drink.



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014