The morning starts as a holiday. Our jobs call and cancel until further notice. Yawning, we drink coffee in the dark of the living-room, immersed in the sound of rain drumming all around us. The night was sleepless and turbulent because of thunderclaps that shook our apartment and triggered car alarms.

It rains in buckets, in rivulets, in streams. 

I have never seen so much water in my life.

The streets are unfamiliar—everything vanishing under a churning river—and we watch, with bated breath, an ambitious car venture out of the apartment gates and drift to the middle of the road. We predict he’ll be swept downstream, into the backwaters of backroads.

The car struggles around the intersection and retreats back to the apartment.

We laugh. There is no danger yet.

Flashing lights in the gray swirling clouds. 

And still it rains. 

We watch the news on my phone—cars completely submerged, kayakers paddling down freeway rapids, the downtown area transformed into a swirling sea from which skyscrapers poke out the top of their heads.

We watch as a woman in a white vehicle steers around a security barrier and into a submerged underpass ocean. A construction worker runs after her car, his mouth open in a silent shout. The light of her cell phone waves frantically as the car sinks slowly into the dark waters.

The car disappears and so does the light.

Eight people drowned that day.

I am water,

tap dancing on souls

with ethereal feet,

flowing through veins,

moody and reckless.

Permeating layers

of skinned stone,

plunging membranes

of crystal water.

Moving like silk

through rumpled sheets.

Slow and sweltry tenacity

increasing to throbbing,

fingers of water

urgently touching

dry, fiery river bed.

My flooding waters

can create or destroy,

every drop of me

is your life,

shimmering spirit

of hope.

Turbulence,

racing blindly

in thirsty gulps,

splashes of fine mist

swimming onward,

puddling on skins.

Vagabond drops

of water meandering

boldly to the sea.

I can tell you

of the rain coming down,

pouring out of an angry sky,

finding its way deep

into the parched earth

and how flowers will grow

out of nothing.

Without water

you will die in three days.

Three gallons of water

consumed in two hours

will kill you.

When dying of thirst

soaking in a vat of the stuff

won't save you.

You must be willing to swallow

and allow it to become you

to be quenched.

To capture water

you must open your palms full.

If you struggle to grasp it tight

it will elude you completely

Water runs hot and cold

but it remains unchangeably water.

If you enter a body of water

and fight it

you will drown.

Surrender to its power

and it will hold you

up in peace.

Water is neutral

like most things in life

love, joy, confidence, satisfaction.

How you handle it makes all the difference.

Water-borne daughter

Born in a storm

Besides the banks of the Thames

Grand-daughter of the sea

Sailor's blood waves in me

Cruel fate raised me in a desert

cracked skin,

parched soul,

I ran to the sea,

San Diego 'n' me

Wet footprints in the sand

Sharp, salty tang in my nose

The water laps, laps at my skin

I drink you in.

But fate and jobs

led me back to the desert

where I wither, a sour grape

a hard raisin, unchewable

I just need water

for a sea-borne daughter

whose cells dry up

and flake away in the heat

of a desert day.

                                surge                                                                     is

                        soaring        Water                                                Water    the 

                shaking                         is                                       cheek               giggle

          the                                          the                           your                             of

       is                                                    tear                on                                          a

Water                                                         crystallizing                                            child 

                                 is                                                          waves

                        Water    the                                           roaring         Water

                puddle              strangled                          the                           is

             a                                scream                'neath                                 the

         in                                         of          pulled                                           sloshing        splashing                                           a man                                                          of

                             and                                                   as it

                      gulp        slurp                                  wave      wanders

                 you                   and                           the                      near

            when                         sip                     of                                 and                  the

      belly                                  Water       whisper                                    far            is

your                                                is the                                                      Water

                                      eminently                                                  Water IS

                                the            rhymable                                     is

                        definable                  force                              Water

               chemically                            behind                    is

          the                                                    all            Water

unfathomable                                                  our lives

Death

Is but liquid desire.

I feel the need to burn inside eternal flame of hatred and fury

Within my absolution

And I will cry a thin veil

Of liquid water

As I starve without bread or butter

I feel the need for my ancestors to be forgiven.

Within my pulses of agony

I will squeal a tiny sound

Of liquid water

As I twist and turn amongst my sheets

I feel the need to wake myself from this nightmare

Between the rapid rotations of eyes

I sniffle a tiny song

Of liquid water:

‘If only I tasted you’

“What are you doing?”

“Wah, sure.”

“What? Were you paying attention? That wasn't the question.”

“What? Er...sorry, I've been distracted”

“What? You're stoned. Cut this out and stop this mad habit.”

“Woo! Cured!”

As Lauryn Hill once said

He is just like the water

And the hair on his head

Like sand through my fingers

His laugh can bring calm

And his smile shines

Like sun on the ocean

He can provide life

Just as he can take it away

And to me he did both

In the most devastating way

Water like the feminine spirit is versatile and resilient. Contain it, freeze it, boil it, dam it abuse it, it still flows with so much power you can’t endlessly suppress its force. It will patiently erode at barriers to eventually wash over unyielding landscapes. Soft and soothing, gentle and intimidating. Mysterious depths. Alluring, playful and inspiring. Capricious and reliable. Impossible to live without. Beautiful, life giving and sustaining. We thirst for it.