Out of the desert, picked out of the high heat by birds our animal cells don't know and into former forests, all metal and wood, cities bigger than me but lush so lush. There...there were your arms and mine and, inside, I felt something coming together again.

You love something more when it's parts of you. Maybe it's because I was there when she was born. Or maybe it's because she came from my sister who I will love until both our bodies turn into roots and dirt. Or maybe it's because I'm supposed to love her and watch as my genes stretch on for generations. Or maybe it's because I get to love her, because through her mother, we both know each other. But this is a joy I have never known before. To love and be loved is the source of all healing.

In the old growth forest, rain falls on my face. Ferns tickle the palms of my hands and the bark of giants bears my weight. I try and open my belly up, my heart, liver, womb, soulself open to the cool and wet. Let it lick the dry places of me till I drip again with life. Water feels different here. Water feels different to me after the desert.

When I first moved here, almost a year ago now, I went to a lake with friends. This was water men had made. Years ago, they moved and stopped a river so that it would pour into and be held by this dry earth. We set up tents and built a small fire and looked at the stars with one another. Come daylight, the earth began to heat up and the sun to beat down and I ran to the water. It was cool and sweet as it embraced me. I had been looking for this, I realized. Strange to move from a place which lives inside a cloud most of the time, rainfall its very heart, to the desert and to here find the water I'd been looking for. Warm enough to swim, warm enough to disappear into, warm and wet enough to fall into weightlessness and freedom.

It was in me again. Enamored with an energy from inside me again. I didn't want to die. I wanted to keep breathing and follow these breaths down. I wanted to see the beauty along this path, see what grew in the footfalls of those that walked ahead of me, see what I could grow now with my own two hands.