Water used to flow so softly over my hands. It hurts to swallow. I drink water and remember how it touches everything inside, how nothing can live without being softened. I try to let myself be soft. I try to flow gentle. … © 2015 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.
Between small flat pebbles and the sound of rushing water on the quay—far from what was known, the abandoned loon stooped to pray knobble-kneed on gleaming cobblestones when sharp lead pierced its breast; the sound sent something trembling away. … © 2015 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.
The fact that my body knows how to breathe is proof I belong in a place with air. I belong here. It is as simple and rational as tears and belly laughs, if you do them right. I have watched people weep and laugh for a long time, and I know it is not the … More On Air and Water.
Remember how the waves were all we needed. If I can find my way to the ocean again, I will return to the deep. Though our lungs burned salt and tangled seaweed, we slept assured that the tide would return. I will wait for the storm, and be glad. … © 2015 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All … More the waves were all we needed
There is no reason sorrow stays so long but that it must gather where the earth allows it, so we may drink it deep, to quench the source from whence it springs so strong. … © 2015 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.