A stranger has asked me to reflect on water

A poem by Aleh Rifka, c. 2021

So I think of a dream 

I’ve had earlier this week

Where I am sitting in a laundromat 

I used to visit as a child

Nothing is too specific 

as far as details go

Except for the muted orange plastic chair

Where I sit as I watch my thoughts 

That I’d emptied into the washing machine 

Leak onto the floor

And flood out the front door

I let them leave

Colors that have no name 

dance with one another on the linoleum floor 

Naked at the base of quiet trees

Wet moss kisses every inch of my backside

sky cries

Melts away all the scars on my body 

As earth begins to soften 

I lessen my grip on fighting gravity 

I let her hold me

Ocean swallows all that I know to be true 

Shows me that the only reality is

Ever-changing

Fluid

She shows me truths that have no name

Some of which I only recognize

After understanding 

My lack of control 

Everything she has swept away

Undone

She pulls me under

Pushes me further

Her and sky bleeding into one blue 

Mirroring each other 

Moon and stars dance with twin partners

Aleh Rapoport, is a Eugene, Oregon-based artist, mover and poet. An Oregon native and currently studying environmental studies and art at the University of Oregon, Rapoport has traveled and lived nationally and internationally over the years. Her art varies from poetry, watercolor illustration, botanical studies, to film and digital photography, music, and improv or movement. She is interested in the expression of the inner mind/ soul through movement, photography, and poetry. Rapoport’s research within environmental studies concerns the deeper understandings of the intersections and oneness of culture and nature, which is a relationship that she considers to be an art form in and of itself.

Photographs by Jay Eads, c. 2021.

Jay is a Portland, Oregon-based photograph. He documents life through portraits, telling stories without words.