Where The Tide Comes From

Wading on the river’s murky, shallow waters,
watching the ripples foam around her feet,
a child ponders: “where does the tide comes from?
It must come from very far away,” she thinks,
while watching the blue sky at the distance
as it meets the river’s brown and flows in the fluid mass.
“It comes from where the stars are born;
up in the air, and close to the sun and the moon.”
She seems hypnotized by the water’s movement.
Soon, small ripples turn into big brown swells.
She watches the water as it moves up and down,
up and down; coming closer, and closer to her.
It rises above her waist – now she’s frightened.
The water will swallow her, she must run.
But the tide is many times stronger than she is; it pulls her in.
Again, she tries to escape; she struggles against its power
for a very long time – until exhausted, she gives it up.
When day fades into night, and the moon shows her pallid face,
and water obeys its command to come in closer, closer yet,
taking over the land, and the trees.
The child sees it lash against the weeping willows cross
the shore – no place to hide – nowhere to run any more.

“Come!” the water commands her: “I have things to show you.”
"Why?" the child asks.
“Because you asked a question which must be answered.”

Mesmerized by the fluid voice, she seems suddenly unafraid.
And the waters are calm now – satisfied. They carry her
flaccid body away from shore, and deep into the undercurrent;
the child struggles no more. She can see, she can breathe.
She goes through the turbulence underneath the surface.
It was calm above the water; on the beach. But somehow
pondering on the mystery, seemed to frighten her more.
Little whirlpools of mud lift from the riverbed –
she is pushed through them, and around them.
She had never imagined the river to be that deep
as she stood on the shore and played beneath the sun.
Suddenly, the water turns colder – somewhat different;
its hue has changed. It is bright, and many colors throughout;
things to see and touch – vegetation – she hadn’t known.
“Is this the ocean?” she asks. “How do those flowers grow?”
“Those are not flowers,” the water responds, “they are coral.
Do you want to touch them? There are mountains here and
valleys, as well, just as you’ve seen on land.”
“I want to see more; I want to see where the tide begins.”
“Then I’ll have to take you to the end of time.”

And the water stirs. It becomes dark. It then lifts itself
from the ocean bed in a violent, and vociferous roar.
Water turns to fire, and fire into air and light
becomes darkness, and sound fades into endless silence.

Adrift, and cradled in the arms of darkness,
way, way far, the child sees a tiny twinkling light.
She is drawn to it. She glides through space
till she’s very, very close. She’s there – can almost touch it.
And then the light begins to spread itself throughout;
turning black into gray and it, into brilliant white.
She moves into its warmth, and listens as it whispers:
“This is where the tide comes from.”

Carmen Ruggero .2004