Bathtime
To bathe is to put the day to bed
In a ritual that’s handed down,
From my mother to me,
Weary, bone-tired we gently lower our newborns
We caress the water around their tiny limbs
Softly, gently, as if polishing a delicate object
Yet we know the water won’t hurt, won’t injure
It soothes and heals and calms like a balm
And these watery lessons become enshrined within us
A tantrum, a battle, an obstinate refusal
It’s the witching hour when the noisy stand-off rears its head
But the water wins again, the soapy, foamy bubbles satiate the senses, calm the frayed nerves
Any tantrum subsides,
The milky, medicinal liquid sloshes away tempestuous sentiments
Sleepy now, relaxed, bed bound they go
The water has worked her magic again.
Why to myself,
“I’m too tired for a bath, too busy to dive into a sleep-inducing watery hug”
Why do I want to linger
Why don’t I want to relax
I can hop in and out of that shower
It’s still water
It’s still cleansing me
I slowly lower myself into the eucalyptus-scented tonic
Gently, deliciously I submerge myself
I’m in another world, another womb
I’m lost and found and whole