one of my earliest childhood memories is of standing next to a pool in baberton in the eastern transvaal, staring at a group of children. they are running around the pool and jumping in shouting with joy at the sky, the water and each other's company. next to me a flat sheet of water is flowing while inside me confusion, fear and rage boiled, frozen and silent.

confusion at why this is so hard for me so easy for them. not knowing how to join, what to do next, what to think next. fear at the thought of joining and being ignored, my face and body stiff, marked as existing in another slowed time time. rage at myself for being wrong, out of place, broken in some way. at my mother for just sitting there, with all the other parents, under yellow umbrellas, laughing and talking, not saving me. at the other children for being what i can never be. fluid. joyous. belonging.

today at 38 i still sometimes feel this way, although the river of frozen fire has worn away deeply into the sediment of my being. become an almost unnoticeable part of who i am.

i want to unfreeze this fire with the cool water of compassion. of gentle acceptance of all the pain and anger i have carried for so long. i want to stop thinking about it, analyzing, pushing compassion at it. circling it. watching it from afar. removed.

i want to just sit down next to it and breathe. slowly. without thought or intend. surrendering to forces greater than me that have been carrying me forward to a place i do not yet know. i want peace. and the knowledge that this place is good. soft and cool. welcoming.

i want compassion to drift around and through me. to sink into every pore till i forget what it feels like to hate with fierce intensity.

so that when this child arrives i am free to let him love himself. to discover the joy of pleasure and laughter. to know that he is loved unconditionally by his parents, his spirit, the trees, grass and sky and by his own imperfect self.

i want hope.

wandering through a thicket of doubt, dusty and tired
i want to find an egg laid by a strange mysterious creature.
the daughter of stork and firebird.

it glows with possibility.
i go down on my news before it. it ignites me.
i become luminous with desire.

rather than remember what i lack
i become ripe with what i want.

on the top of a tree i glow against a deep blue sky.
i am flower and fruit.

and when the time is right i fall.

into the earth i burrow.
effortlessly i grow back towards the light.

Fey