water sign

what did I inherit from my mother but an animal heart

 and cardboard boxes of flight?

genetics

infused w preverbal trauma

unearthed memories of near death

synapses clutched up in knots

vigilance = survival

vigilance= survival

  freeze

track the predator with disappearing eyes 

I have to remember to unclench my hands

find my heart

my pulse my murky river of blood

full of cortisol and thc

I sink

into a hot bath sometimes 3 times

a day

in between

I study water

it’s memory

it’s capacity to hold and heal

to infuse

I study survival

I study wounds and their open purpose

I can almost remember mine

I can almost remember my mothers

  that narrow bridge from the adrenaline laced womb 

to my own fight or flight

vigilance of an animal heart

where I rewrite history with endless water

and keep the littlest me

safe from heartless carnivores

babies should be clear rivers

babies should not be

boxes built to fill with wounds

decades in storage

carefully opening each one over years

I lay them out in the sun

one by one by one

pour honey into the pain

I’ve inherited instinct

I’ve cultivated dirt and spit and thorn thick

protection spells

for

babies 

should be water

soothing, turbulent, resilient and healing

brilliant open animals