Monday, April 08, 2013

for the swimmer


Submerged,
remembering the freedom
of weightlessness,
 
pull, pull, pull,
breathe.
 
Each time one arm descends
I watch tiny bubbles float up from the tips of my fingers,
 
pull, pull, pull,
breathe.

 
My neck rhythmically twists,
reaching for air, for life,
over and over,
one side, then the other,
in fluid repetition.
 
pull, pull, pull
breathe.
 
I feel the water flowing over and around my tired body,
it washes over my shoulders,
it slides over the small of my back,
like a comforting hand.

 
My eyes follow the thick blue line at the bottom of the pool,
to guide me,
to let me know when it’s time to turn around,
 
and begin again.
 
and I love
this symmetry.



An older woman winks at me as we reluctantly lift ourselves out of the water and walk towards the change rooms. I immediately notice the laugh lines etched permanently in her strong face. "You swim like a dancer", she tells me, "And you must know that fish love to dance". As I leave I hear her whistling in the shower. It's a tune I know from some old memory, but can't quite place.


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