Prismic Prayer

I remember once, being afraid – very afraid – of the water. From the safety of the craggy rocks, I feared waves, the unknown pull of life at the bed of the sea and death itself. I saw the sea as a malevolent being – and the rocks as my protectors. Until one day, I ventured out alone. The waves began to drag. I had drifted too far away – and a panic gripped my body like a phantom clenched-fist.

I would never feel the land beneath my feet; I will no longer be able to rely on the stones – those who I had trusted for so long, and who warned me of the dangers of the unknown. But my legs began to kick and so I pleaded: ‘Look after me’, I asked the water. And it replied by taking me back to shore. Leaving me on the stones and rocks that stood firmly beneath my feet and welcomed me to safety.

I had overcome my fear and was now in control. We had made a deal, the water and I; that I should not be afraid, but that I should not underestimate it either. Now I live between the stones and the water. Between what I know, and what I do not; so that I never forget that deal I once made with danger, and how it repaid me by making me a braver person, open to new ideas.

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