Tuesday, 6 March 2012

*journal entry. When I write, I am a lot more concise rather than just spilling out garbage like I do when I am typing on a keyboard.*

There's harmony in the water.

In the depths where I am staring at the blue and white tiles of the swimming pool, the world is quiet. There's the muffled sounds of children splashing in the distance. Serious swimmers get their laps in.

My friend's boyfriend coaches me patiently. His voice is a mere murmur in the waters.

"You want to kick, then pull, then lift up your chest and breathe in. Deep."

There's harmony in the water.

There is a peace that does not seem to exist above the meniscus of the water.

Maybe the fishes and all the underwater sea creatures have the right idea.

It is quiet. And if my fear of running out of breath does not get to me, I float like a spectre lingering in the shallows.

I look at my shadow and I quieten my spirit.

Kick.

Glide first. Do not pull. Not yet. I wanted to feel my body slice through the water like a hot knife through butter.

And then I pull.

My arms create millions of tiny bubbles trailing around my body. There is quiet after the initial rush.

Glide.

Another kick. Pull.

And then my chest rises out of the water like a behemoth.

Like Poseidon rising out of the depths, I lift int the air. And then I feel sad, just for a moment. I feel that I have just left Heaven. And come back to Earth for goodness knows what reason.

I take a breath. Grateful to let go of the bursting sensation in my lungs, I gulp. And then it is back into the depths of my soul.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

And as my hands touch the wall at the end of the pool, I break the surface.

For a few minutes, the Poet that can barely dog paddle or breathe during freestyle to save his skin, feels like he has swum with the beasts of the deep.

Poet signed off at 02:23

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Monday, 5 March 2012

A rebirth. Finally.

Poet signed off at 19:39

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