The Place the Wildebeests Gather

A poem and prompt about getting cool with the collective

GUYS. I did not, as I thought I might, continue to write poetry during my Substack hiatus in June. I also did not, as I hoped I would, write today’s poem on a day that wasn’t today so that I could, you know, edit it.

BUT. I wrote something, and I’m sharing the very roughest of drafts with you, and I can’t tell you how GOOD it feels. Need a quick high? Write a poem.¹

Photo by Raphaël Biscaldi on Unsplash

Water Hole

You’ve told me that I remind you
of the place the wildebeests gather–
only our oasis includes
soft black asphalt turned lava in the sun
plenty of chlorine, but is it enough?
paint bubbling under clear blue broth
no lounges or lanes to speak of

You’ve told me you remember
a spot from your youth where
snacks were for sale, with
white plastic tables, broad umbrellas
and bathrooms less known for their
wet concrete floors decorated
in soggy scraps of paper towel

I can’t replicate a memory I never
knew in a climate far transformed, 
but I can offer you this:
Close your eyes, hold your breath
Plunge beneath my surface
and feel the world stop; resurrect
to a melody of magnified voices

“Watch me, Mama!”s and “Marco!”
“Polo!”s and neighbors spotting
neighbors behind reflective
sunglasses then chatting, heads
bobbing above the surface, about
surgeries, school next year, and the
death of the woman who once watched

Your babies. I admit I’m full
of bandaids, disengaged, I’m
devoid of shade, I’m hardly enough
to save social capital, but I’m still
here, and when the sun dips
behind the trees, trust me, I can see 
the kids aren’t the only ones 
reluctant to leave

If you are new here, the Conspire and Connect section offers a somatic or written prompt designed to bring you back to your body and help you connect to yourself and the world around you. Today’s is (big surprise) water-inspired.

1. You can do this standing, sitting, or lying down. Wherever you are, take a few breaths to feel the earth beneath you.

2. Imagine (you may not have to) that you are in a very hot climate, standing at the edge of a cool body of water with a shallow entry.

3. Come up with a word or short phrase that epitomizes the rest or relief you are hungry for. Some examples: It’s okay, I’m enough, All is calm, I’m free, etc.

4. Imagine that you are slowly stepping into the water, an inch or two at a time. It’s not shockingly cold, but refreshingly cool. With each step, repeat the word or phrase you came up with, and feel how that part of your body reacts to entering the water.

5. Progress from your feet to ankles to calves to knees and eventually all the way above your head. Take as long as you like at each step (no one is nagging you to Jump in, already!).

6. Notice how things feel when your whole body is “submerged.” Try it again as often as you like.

To close, I want to pay tribute to Andrea Gibson, the brilliant poet and fresh, juicy, mango of a human that passed away this week. I think their poetry is best absorbed when read aloud by the author, so look for videos. This one of Andrea reading “Love Letter from the Afterlife” to their wife, Meg, will probably wreck you.

With light, life, and love,

Devon

1. Results not medically verified. Dependency is a risk. Consult your doctor before pursuing any long-term alternative therapies.