Laying on the land,
We asked the dreaming
to orient our listening.
It said,
women,
your sacred rituals excite the origin.
So, we followed the caterpillar east
up the mountain.
Across the rocky crevice,
to the twisted limbs of an ancient gum.
There,
we rested,
gossiping with the birds.
Until the rumble of our sisters’ return.
Upon descent,
sweet mandarins we shared,
speaking of undying elementals.
Laying on the land, again,
we were guided to the water’s edge.
Greeted by the elders,
we had visions of a red sea,
hemp twine,
and a shimmering spirit.
We heard the call of the aqueous erotic.
With clairsentience and doubt we parted.
Two to the homestead,
two to the river’s head.
Following our guides,
we meandered.
Zigzagging in and out of reality,
we found our way to the mossy opening.
Sweaty,
we stripped,
knowing we’d arrived.
With naked wonder,
we asked,
“ How do you do?”
Singing the creek as our compass,
we flowed like water
back to the camp.
Caitlin Franzmann and Camila Marmabio, Saddler Ridge, September 2019