No matter how much chapstick and body lotion I saturate myself in, my lips are still chapped, I still feel flaky skin. I gulp water by the buckets-full. The desert lives inside of me, it burrowed its way in.
I want to soak in a tub of oil, drench myself in falling rain until I'm wet through to all the way under my skin.
My yearning leads me to the shoreline, the one that exists on the borders of my own private island of solitude. It is there that I go to find refreshment and to be renewed.
As I stand at the water's edge and let the gentle waves lap up over my toes and shins, I can breathe again. At some point - there's no telling when - the birthing waters burst open from within. I am soothed by the gushing, as it is always preceded by groans and contractions.
When parched, I stand at the shoreline - hands open - ready to be drenched. Again.