River Cleanse

30 09 2009
Kickapoo River

River

The river flowed through her,
picked up from the banks,
with the current busting a hole into the top of her head.
The steady pressure that pushes 30 year old trees out of their securely rooted nests and carries them as matchsticks
pushed through her body ,
trickling out of the eyes as freshwater tears and dislodging crusted mucus from the sinus
nettie-pot style.
The mouth served as the shocked spigot
before the overflow continued on through the organs,
washing off the layers of insulation and defenses and any little cells that were reproducing too quickly.
Some of the pressure was relieved by the fingers
each one a tributary eventually streaming
with mucky liquid that ran clear after the first couple of minutes.
As the bulk of the water flushed past the tummy and intestines,
she began to think of flying and touching clouds
and friends and teachers
and friends that are teachers that make her dream at least once a week.
And the river flowed and cleansed every time a man or woman used or utilized her
(’cause it’s important to know that there’s a difference).
That accumulated waste couldn’t come out of her yoni
-that had been dammed for years-
but instead made its way through suggestion and direction
to the feet standing solid on a wave
bursting the rejection of the soul through the soles
and back to the source to continue the process with the earth.
And it all started with a word.

*From Miriam’s Contemplative writing class tonight.  The prompt was to start with the word “word”, make an association tree from there and then write using those words or ideas (or write about something else).*