I’ve looked into the eyes of many a person and in each of those people, I always saw the same thing: Darkness - a darkness that even my waters did not harness. Yet, it is they who are afraid of me.
I contain life. I breed existence. I inhale all of your hatred and fear and turn it into poetry. I allow you to steal from my bowels and it is still you who is afraid. Why?
Sadly, I am all too aware that the answer to that question is up in the sky. In the vast amount of clouds and hue and grandeur, reaching all the way up to the heavens of which people so often speak. It is up there along with my voice and my words that have escaped me long ago.
The people who walk the earth are a selfish people. Always taking and never giving. They steal the creatures that flow through my veins, giving me life, and act as if it was I who had given it to them. They take of my body and filter it as if it were poison on their tongues. I am constantly shaking and shifting, trying to rock them off of me with their capacious shards of disassembled saplings, grabbing hold of the grainy earth, thrashing against the precipices of the earth that still remain untouched, for now at least.

I’ve looked into the eyes of many an ocean and in each of those bodies of water, I always seem to see the same thing: darkness - a darkness, a sameness, with how I feel and how I look. The water somehow resembles me. It is beautiful on the outside while on the inside it is nothing but darkness. The people tell me that the ocean is full of life.
How can that be? How can there be life in something so dark?
I suppose, in a way, I already know the answer to that. Some would say it is a gift to be able to give life, but I say that it is a curse. Being brought into this world is the most inhumane thing you can do to a life. There is so much hurt and fear. The people who I walk amongst are selfish and ungrateful. They were given something as great as this earth and they dishonor it. They destroy anything that could possibly be described as natural and replace it with edifices made out of so many broken down pieces of earth.
How can we keep trusting them with something as important as a life, if we can’t even trust them with something as vital as our home?

“I’ve come here to ask, or beg rather, if you would be willing to help a little.”
The girl spoke softly, quietly, not out of fear, but out of consideration. When she was looking at me, I had expected to see that same darkness I always see. But this time it was different. Rather than darkness, I saw a light. I looked into her eyes and I saw mine.
What is your worry, my dear? What seems to be troubling you so much that you felt the need to ask me for help? Don’t you feel fear toward the darkness?
The girl spoke with care, eyes watching closely, as I collected her warm words and swallowed them.
“I feel a comfort within your darkness. I have come to ask of you your waters.”
My waters?
“I know that you house thousands and thousands of lives already in the private of your womb, but might you have just enough room to take in two more lives? You see, I, too, contain a life; a life which needs a home - one away from the selfishness that this world carries.”
The girl’s eyes began to well up. And through her tears, I tasted her sadness. I felt the pain within her grow stronger by the second, trying to envelope the tiniest shimmer of hope she had left - me. The girl was now standing at the edge of the water, looking into my vastness expectantly.
I must ask, girl, is this really, truly, what you want?
She spoke quickly and quietly, but confidently.
“Nothing could be better for a child than an embracing home. A forgiving and selfless home. Nothing could be better for a young woman like me, than to be able to make her own choices. Truly, this is what I want, to be somewhere I am loved and accepted, not judged.”
I pull a blanket of water and wash it over her, as my waves lull her.
It will be very dark, girl. Don't be frightened though, I’ll be gentle.
The girl lets the blanket cover her eyes as she drifts into a deep sleep, only to be awakened on the other side.