I am missing my wetlands.
There is flood and there is not; drought? No. Mudslides and oversaturation.
Soggy shoes and unsteady steps. Breathing, but not deeply - too wet to root.

If I had wetlands
The heavy rains would not break me down so easily
Each storm recovered from – a process, steadily in its own time
Their waters would be filtered, flushed out, would lend to growth.
And the event of heavy rain would be healed from,
Moved on from.

But I don’t have wetlands,
So every heavy rain is as bad as the last;
builds upon - worsened - by the past
Because last times waters were not processed, only gathered into a reservoir quick to overfill
again and again and again; floods.

I think, between each rain, that I am better.
Things are healed,
I put my house, my walls, my windows to see the world, my door to let the world in,
I put it all back together.

But the floods come again, and I find
I was not healed from last time,
I just wasn’t cognizant that the door, while functioning, was now a little crooked.
The floods of old were still there, seeping into my foundation;
molding, unstable.
Not sturdy, not strong
Not a place to grow.

I haven’t processed the water,
only endlessly been trying to bottle it up.
At least I see the pattern now.
Bottles aren’t sustainable.
If only I had wetlands.

How do you restore one’s wetlands?