Giving Thanks: Water

Some people believe in taking it to their Lord in prayer I on the other hand believe in tipping it into the seas in tears I rain all my sorrows and joys in equal measure, into water, in all the forms she chooses to embody, she that is the healing arm of my mother Lobopo, for sweet release as she runs fountains down my cheeks and my eyes become pools filling up and spilling over with pent up emotions she in turn soaks away all my aches and pains as I gain instant relief My third eye receives and emits healing only when its fully emerged in her clear waters when they hold stillness reminiscent of my great grandmother's gift of sight inherited from her own great grandmother and she in turn from hers and so forth down the mortal coil of decendancy as committed to tribal memory She is in me and I am partly her the healing hand of my mother metsi She has always been the belt hoisting me to my ancestors since the day of my conception as I laid at rest in her being fortified before I entered the mortal realm She runs deep in me as she oils, dilutes, cleanses, purifies and irrigates my being, to afford me the precious gift of life I carry the distinctive mark of mother Gaia on me and it's a shining reflection of my original root that is planted on the banks of her rivers and even ponds all over my MamaLand Planted within reach to her waters that keep my marrow moist and supple I am a seedling of her fontanel Aferika where the pulse of life beats so raw, tender and bold that it leaves the bittersweet taste of nostalgia clinging to all the hearts she ever encounters and all life forms latch onto her ample teat for sustenance I give thanks to the arm of my mother water, for giving me life, never forsaking me in my hour of desperate need and for keeping me connected to the original source of my being Aferika