I am six
Waves are lapping at my feet
I am enthralled by the peace
The steady rhythm of the river
Unchanging in its presence and promise.
I am fourteen
Plunging into the lake from the rocky outcrop above
Swallowing fear borne of horrifying memories
Trusting that I am safe
Surrounded by those who love me
As serene blue hugs my triumphant, shaking body.
I am eighteen
Soaked by the pounding foam
As I brave the slippery shelf behind tumbling falls
On another adventure with my dearest father figure
Not knowing it is the last we will have
Before the poison in his leg returns for his lungs and takes him.
I am twenty-one
Demanding to spend my entire spring break sitting in the sand
Watching and listening as the ocean drags over itself endlessly
And colors change as the surface reflects the clouds
The blue sky
The airplanes and paragliders.
I am twenty-five
Alone and lonely in a new city
A new state
The only familiar company is
The Mississippi, framing everything
I sit by its side and let the comfort wash over me
Reminding that no matter what changes
The river runs.
I am thirty
Living in a sea of hot sand for the first time
Bereft and disconnected
Feeling so very wrong
Withering not just from heat
Not just from the isolation that a pandemic brings
But from the unfulfilled need for my basest connection to earth.
I am thirty-two
Leaving everything I know
Again
This time surrounded by flowing, rippling, raging currents
And all of a sudden
The insurmountable seems insignificant.
I am thirty-six
Finding my way in this world at last
Wondering what comes next
At the edge of the shore
Waves lapping and tumbling at my feet
Finding my safety and peace in the water once more.
Micah Noe is a writer based in New York City. Their work explores themes of return, identity, and connection. This poem on teshuvah reflects their ongoing engagement with questions of self and connection through the lens of the most basic human experiences in nature.
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Water fixes everything. I recently read something in a substack post by a-vegan-gourmet.com/The Kitchen Oracle about how water has memory and is sacred, that resonated with me. I’ll paste/copy it here:
“In Ojibwe teachings, nibi—water—is regarded as a sacred, living and moving being, something that carries stories and connection. In the Nibi Water Walk tradition, water gathered at the beginning of a journey is carried in a copper vessel and ultimately returned downstream, in part as a way of reminding the river of its original state.
September 3, 2026 at 11:29 amI find that idea extraordinarily beautiful. The Mississippi flowing past St. Louis has already traveled through countless places and lives before it reaches us, carrying the story of the land with it.
And long after it passes us, it keeps going. If water carries memory, then standing beside the river in prayer feels less like speaking to an object and more like entering an ancient conversation already in progress.”