Womb Of The Water.

No matter where I looked no god I could find,
not one that inspired faith of soul or mind,
but whenever I called out in love or pain,
I could always find the patter of the rain.
Like an immediate response to a call to prayer,
the absence of my devotion was so rare,
whenever the heavens cried and thundered,
my heart I offered joyously to be plundered.
Drenched and soaked I returned sated,
my soul fulfilled and my fears abated,
and while I still struggle to remain sane,
I learnt to trust from the infallible rain.

No matter whom I asked no answer I could find,
not one that filled the coffers of the mind,
not in books, scholars nor in a magical potion,
could I ever locate the wisdom of the ocean.
Behind the piper singing a song of blissful demise,
into loud, unforgiving waves I went rolling the dice,
and whenever the tune of the ocean called,
I went crawling on my knees even as I bawled.
Salted and sore I returned always cleansed,
forgotten, the questions that had me incensed,
and while I still sometimes resist the motion,
I learnt acceptance from the vast ocean.

No matter what I chose no path was clear,
not the one of mother, knowledge or seer,
but whenever the stillness of cold had me shiver,
I could always perspire on the course of the river.
On the rocks my feet I was gladly there to cut,
and to danger mine eyes were always shut,
when the white froth grazed my tired skin,
my broken spine awakened ready to win.
Shattered and hurt I returned invigorated,
by wonder my heart eternally captivated,
and while to adventure am not always a giver,
I learnt wildly to live from the mighty river.

Sometimes it feels like when I was grown,
when unthinkingly my life stone was thrown,
I may have landed on a wasteland that once was,
home to an aquatic version of the endless Oz.
Sometimes it feels like I am no one's daughter,
and I was born from the womb of the water.