need to write

sometimes my soul feels as though it's withering,
sere as desert plants too long deprived of liquid.
writing is my hydrotherapy. only the right writing
will plump and buoy that wispy intangible portal
to life.

intense thirst may be slaked and assuaged
with the perfect word and phrase angled just so
reaching acutely into the depths of being and
tapping, touching, tipping its point on release valves
buried obscurely in mine ephemeral density.

ah. here we are. lost no more. words again save me
from flying ungrounded. Anchor and preserver in
one, a phrase reaches air and I am whole once more.

i can see, hear, feel, breathe, sigh, sit, settled in an
old comfort, a familiar rut. I recognize this in my
bones, my heart, chest, lungs. I breathe deeply,
returning home at last.