And she emerged from her murky muddy domain,
The water still clinging to bare skin,
Her feet soft from floating,
And stepped upon the bank of sharp grass.
Now bleeding, she stops and takes a look around,
The woods are silent.
Unlike her aquatic existence,
This place is hard.
Seeking her seeker, she gently steps forward,
Tentatively trusting,
Yet compelled to move.
Now the sun is drying her,
Her world now behind her,
No place to dive, no hole to retreat.
She is here for all to see,
And finds that she herself sees no one.
There are no familiar faces.
The river roars for her return,
Demands her,
But comfort in anonymity is
A slow death.
She wants to live.
So, she takes another step.
Hiraeth Examined 