Girl in Water

                                                                                by Laura Smith
 

What would happen if I go into the water?
Would I make a splash? Would I leave a wake?
I wonder, as concentric circles come looking for me on the shore.
Would I surrender, sink beneath, drift, breath;
Arms and legs and hair gently waving above,
As I slowly sink and slid into soft, warm mud.

And then,
I would I rise like a mermaid,
Sun glinting, water flashing on my body.
Swimming as fast as a speed boat,
Flesh goose bumping as I leap and cavort
In bracing blue waters.

When I open up to the feelings, I open up to all of them, not just some of them.

I want to be the girl in the water, but I fight against it, disassociating most times when the opportunity is presented. What is in that moment? It is a refusal to surrender. My last homework is to be the girl surrendering to the water and then to go with the animus and feel the fear of it. Being this girl, I find myself floating, sinking through soft, pale green waters to slide beneath warm, caressing mud. Floating is like eternity. There is nothing to do in the sinking. There is no place to go, no thing to be done, no action to take. Only the slow sinking. Where is this place? Does it only exist in my mind while doing the homework? Is it real? Is it for me? What do I gain from simply stopping? What happens if I just float?