Two Returns to Water
I’m so tired. I should be writing but instead I scan the room for spiders, the Adderall waxing off as the images wane in. The blue screen of my computer is too bright, highlighting the tips of my fingers, creating bony silhouettes that create bony words. No flesh. No life. Two returns to mark a new point. I can’t get angry in this space. I can’t be fired up, because igniting dry limbs will only turn me to ash. I need to be of water. I need to return to the water.
The Fire
This is what happens when we resist the destruction. When we build dams and construct reservoirs instead. When we block the flow of life and think we know better than the cycles that made us. The foolish attempts to control our mother when we are still in our infancy.
Come, my petulant child. Rest quietly in my embrace and let’s watch the fire burn.
The Other Sun
I think about you
every day
as the sun rests
on the horizon.
Memories float in,
uninvited—
until they are.
Lauren Theresa (she/her) is a queer neurodivergent writer, chthonic poet, botanical sorceress, and Jungian trauma therapist. She lives in NJ with her husband, two daughters, and myriad of plants, and her publications crawl the pages of laurentheresa.com.