A Meditation on Water (Juni Style)

Water, water, not everywhere
How many cups of tea do you drink in a day?
How many times do you wash your hands?
How much is every drop worth to you
When you have to carry it on your back?

I have no running water in my home
I lug it up a mountainside
A ¾ km walk
Most of it up hill, of course

Water, water in my sled
Dragging through blinding snow
How much do you weigh, oh jug?
How much mass is this?
Yes, oh yes you can melt snow
For the toilet and the dogs
But thanks to all our pollution
I would rather haul the water for drinking

Wrapped in many layers
Some I crocheted myself
Wool and cotton wrappings
And leather boots in the freezing
Dragging food and water up the mountain

And then we come to Summer’s heat
When water is much more needed
Once I crest the steepest part of my journey
I come to the long flat spot
Open, with no trees
Open to the Wind
Exposed to the Summer Sun
Beating upon the mountain

I feel the thirst in mouth and throat
I stop for just a moment
I pause and I listen
To that tiny voice within

I slip out of my Earthshoes and leave them in the dirt
I place the jug high upon my head
Steady now, balance it … Ready … go
Walk upon a stony dirt road at Summer’s peak
Balance oh so carefully your precious drink
Ah, yes this why they carry it this way
My arms tired and sore
A-resting now are they
Though I must say
This is much harder on my back and neck

I walk along as stones dig in
And a jug of water upon my head
Gently sways and slightly sloshes
I think of my sisters in other parts of the world
Carrying their own burdens
How many woman today, and yesterday and last millennium
Carried water from their well, or whatever
And with sheer grit and determination
Did they each day make the trek,
For themselves and their loved ones?

Water, water, not everywhere
How many cups of tea do you drink in a day?
How many times do you wash your hands?
How much is every drop worth to you
When you have to carry it on your back?

Juniper,  Summer 2009