The Ants Look Like Stars - Ella Becker
I see in your file it says you’ve been drowning again?
Thrashing for breath in your cereal bowl again?
For how long? Do your muscles meet death like a friend again?
Like a lover sometimes?
Well,
I can’t do anything about the ocean.
That’s the moon’s job, and try as I might I’m not her.
However,
I can teach you to swim.
My prescription:
Tomorrow when the sky opens up, lie down
On your back so you can make eye contact with the stars.
And for a moment
Imagine the sky as a bowl,
A milk jug
Full of ink and glitter and imagine,
If the earth gave you up briefly,
A sinking downwards into a new ocean.
Unexplored.
For a moment let yourself fall
far enough that if you wanted the stars could reach out
And touch you with burning fingers.
From this perspective, look back.
See how very small everything
we’ve ever known is.
Then, let your earthen ties bring you back.
Let yourself settle back into the grass.
From here, the ants can look like stars.
The dew in the spiderwebs can remind you of comets.
How very galactic the ground can be if you allow it.
Let your toes feel the grass like they’ve felt stars.
Maybe then, knowing how big everything is,
You might go back inside,
And find the ocean a little smaller,
A little less deep,
certainly manageable at least.