One sunny day back in 1983, I walked to a neighborhood park that had a shallow, still pond.

When I sat by the water, I sat to calm my racing mind. But as I sought repose, I observed ripples in the water. As I watched, looking for regularity and peace, the ripples were not at peace. Nor were they soothing. Rather, churning, choppy, agitated, as if they replicated my emotions.

But then I noticed bubbles all over the shallow water. Their uneasiness was mine. Just beneath the surface, translucent bodies swam. Their faces, with their long, thin, hair-like whiskers, intimidated me.

But I wanted to be rugged, so despite being startled, I looked again. Catfish with barbels hanging from their mouths.

These fish are intelligent. The bubbles were formed by the father blowing air for the babies into the nest. The fathers swim to the top of the water so they can inhale and then aerate their family’s eggs.

At that point, I remembered that I too had to breathe. The catfish let me remember why I had come to the water’s edge. They were happy doing what they were doing. I needed to be too! So I softened, releasing the feelings I held in the back of my mind, and letting go, found happiness where I was. The catfish helped me do this. By getting caught up in watching them, I changed my state of mind to one without conflict, to a place where I did not feel threatened anymore.

Transparent Whiskers

The pond is clear.
A gentle glimpse of water,
It shines brightly as can be
But when it ripples, it moves with rigid fear
And lack of ease.

Its soft elements turn nature
Into stormy whiskers as
It becomes translucent
To all who threaten them!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Original text ©2024 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by Pearson Scott Foresman, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.