Come home. And call
search from a place of longing.
Empty girl, you’re seeping holy water of your wellspring
When it should flow in. Inward toward you
To fill the still, cool
It must be full to sink your body into
To wash off the t r e m b l e
Of fear and
You know the feeling
And you know the way.
The familiar path that bare feet tread
to voices receding in wild wood, endless left and right
Quit your search, quit your draining of soul onto
Everything and everyone else,
and call the water flow back home, follow it’s stream
And come back
to your wellspring.
poetry by Rachael Yahne
photo by Dziana Hasanbekava