splash... pull... kick...
this is what I remember
warm hands pouring me into the sea
patting me gently
setting me in motion
swimming toward a land
wreathed in nacre fog
against a gold horizon
the comforting jostle
of others
bobbing in the swell
muscles stretching and contracting
finding my rhythm
diving through waves
loneliness
echoing splashes,
dimly seen shadows
before, behind & beside me.
ripples with bubble hearts
etched by phantom shapes,
swirling in the depths below.
a long day stretching toward evening,
twinges of unfamiliar weariness,
my arms growing weak.
translucent skin shedding diamonds,
weaving a billowing gossamer road,
the reverse ink of my passage.
a beach made of pearls.
swimming among the rocks,
the taste of tears,
sighing dissolution
and silence.
then cupped hands
lift me from the sea
and cast me skyward.
I see an island
set in clouds
against a far horizon
and I swim.
YOU ARE READING
Looking at Yesterday
PoetryA collection of musings on our collective journey. [Note: I am moving some of my previously published standalone items into this collection.]
