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To learn more
about the summer conference, Breathing Under Water, please
click here.
Breathing Under Water
I built my house by the sea.
Not on the sands, mind you;
not on the shifting sand.
And I built it of rock.
A strong house
by a strong sea.
And we got well acquainted, the sea and I.
Good neighbors.
Not that we spoke much.
We met in silences.
Respectful, keeping our distance,
but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand.
Always, the fence of sand our barrier,
always, the sand between.
And then one day,
- and I still don’t know how it happened -
the sea came.
Without warning.
Without welcome, even
Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand
like wine,
less like the flow of water than the flow of blood.
Slow, but coming.
Slow, but flowing like an open wound.
And I thought of flight and I thought of drowning
And I thought of death.
And while I thought the sea crept higher, till it
Reached my door.
And I knew, then, there was neither flight, not death,
Nor drowning.
That when he sea comes calling, you stop being
Good neighbors
Well acquainted, friendly-at-a-distance neighbors
And you give your house for a coral castle,
And you learn to breathe underwater.
By Carol Bieleck, R.S.C.J.
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