Open Water - Aug 12 2022

 

Open Water

Aug 12 2022

It's warm in the shallows

where sluggish water

has been soaking up the sun.

Now, like tepid soup, too turbid to see

even a few feet deep,

and so choked with weeds

I can't imagine swimming.

Or worse, touching down

on a bottom of soft brown muck

composed of who-knows-what,

sinking in

to a mix of fine silt

dead fish

and decomposition,

gloppy mud

sucking me in

like quick sand.

Not to mention lost lures

slippery rocks

and sharp little stones,

scattered, like unmapped mines

armed and primed

for naked feet.

But swim out, where it's open and deep

and you'll find the water

is cold and clear,

a hard bottom

dropping steeply away,

a fresh breeze

riffling the waves.

It's always this way

for those compelled

to get ahead of the crowd.

You must brave the depths

break new ground

head out by yourself.

Because by taking a hard left

onto the next dirt road,

getting past the first portage,

you've already gone

where few are willing to follow.

But you must learn to be by yourself;

taking chances

and risking loneliness.

So I step gingerly,

mince my way further from shore.

Then plunge in, and swim unencumbered

going nowhere in particular.

Submerged

in crystal clear water

like a sleek pelagic fish

at ease in its element,

scales flashing silver

with each effortless stroke.

And as the land recedes from sight

feeling more and more alive.