instincts

The water recedes back into the spring, the earths crust, a forgotten hole. She doesn’t know why this was happening. She feels the pull of gravity, she feels the spirit, the water, being pulled away from her body. She feels the weight of this alien void, her body aches from the sludge of this barren atmosphere, her body clings to the ground, it seems, out of a pure necessity to be as close to the spirit as one could be. Why did the waters recede? It is painful for her to move. She lies on her stomach, cheek, palms of her hands spread across the loose sand, and she bleeds out a cement from her body. It soaks her body, it is absorbed by the sand, it drinks the silky beads oozing out of her.

The water springs back from the depths of an unknown source and greets her again. But she is fragile, she is scared now. Because of the loose sand her bloody cement was broken up by the water molecules and degraded by protozoa who found her to be a delicacy. Her body is stiff and she is still low to the ground, even while spirit surrounds her. She scours the floor to find a surface that would fuse with her the next time round, of course, the next time the water leaves heaven. She can’t feel so vulnerable again. She feels she must sacrifice freedom, to be fused to a surface that would make her feel secure in this life. The spirit would be there, the water would be near us forever, and we would be safe, I would be fused to a rock, the crashing waves of the water or a tilt in the earth could not move me.

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I’m having a little playful writing session inspired by a cake urchin or a barnacle or something like that but also giving it human characteristics and feeling.