Sabrina offers me the comfort of her arms. She promises to hold me like a mother holds a small child. She will comfort me, and take away the pain. There will be peace in her embrace, and relief, and release and none of this will matter anymore. Sabrina invites me to sleep in her arms.
She offers this invitation widely, gathering to her the lost and distressed, the hopeless and despairing. She will hold anyone who can no longer bear to breathe. She will take anyone into her keeping who has nothing left to live for and no faith in the future.
Once she had a reputation as a river that kills. The Severn always gets her man, they used to say. With her tides and mud and unpredictability, she was never kind to the careless. These days they come willingly, when they can take it no more. She does not need to lure the fisherman or tantalise the careless child.
She calls to me. I hear her promises, her reassurance. It is a brutal mercy that she offers, a killing kindness for those who can take no more. She is always there, always offering to be the end of the journey, the place of rest. ‘Sleep in my arms,’ she says ‘and forget.’
October 23rd, 2020 at 12:13 pm
Nimue, this is beautiful and resonant, but how worried should we be? ❤
October 23rd, 2020 at 12:37 pm
I’m holding together at the moment.
October 23rd, 2020 at 12:45 pm
River goddesses… beautiful, alluring, deadly. There is a tradition that my river goddess, Belisama, takes a life every seven years. Now it seems to be several lives a year. Sometimes there are missing person signs, sometimes I see the rescue boat, sometimes just the notice on Blog Preston, sometimes there are makeshift shrines. These are unkind times but know your voice is valued to guide us through them x
October 24th, 2020 at 8:51 pm
There is something about the water that gives you the urge to be pulled in…. just because we hear the siren call, doesn’t mean we should surrender to it. Beware, Nimue. X
October 28th, 2020 at 10:36 pm