I’ll bring you to the silent waters when you feel embarrassed, not well-adjusted to this world, forgotten.
I’ll bring you to the silent waters when you feel as if you are not loved anymore.
I’ll bring you to the silent waters when you listen to your process of aging rather than enjoying life.
I’ll bring you to the silent waters when you haven’t got the energy.
I’ll bring you to the silent waters when you seek serenity inside of you and can’t find it.
You will drink this water and wash in it, and you will turn into a child and will run to the field, or to the forest, or to the river. To where time is no longer in charge. You’ll narrow your eyes, looking at the sun. You’ll walk barefoot on the grass. You will speak to animals. You’ll rest your sleepy head on the starched pillow.
The most silent waters are at home. In the yard of grandmother’s house, where she put buckets and basins to collect rainwater.