Calling to the Deep
Dear Reader,
This is a resharing with a different image, but the words of the poem are the same. Only this time, I’m going to share a bit more about how this poem really came to be. In January 2023, I collapsed on the bathroom floor of a plane headed to Hawaii. I almost died from a pulmonary embolism. This poem was written three days after leaving the hospital. I sat on a beach thankful for the strangers who saved my life and the family and friends who prayed for me. There is so much more to the story, but I’ll say this: I caught a glimpse of the deep. It changed me forever.
As always, I’m thankful to the women who raised me and who taught me all the different ways of knowing. Without them, I wouldn’t have known how to process such an experience.
I call to the deep.
Red dirt road and river wide.
A memory of home and longing.
The strong women gather.
Outstretched arms and hands that know how to heal are potent medicine for a soul that is ill and in need of care.
I call to the deep.
My mother answers.
My grandmother answers.
All the women answer.
It is well.
Just be still.
They pass the word.
Baby girl, it is within you.
Don’t fret.
We can’t stay long.
Remember we taught you to rest during the storm.
Turn off the lights
Unplug everything
Rest your bones
And just be still.
In the morning, you will know that we were here.
I felt this poem deep in my soul -