The First Length - Sept 30 2022

The First Length

Sept 30 2022

The first length

underwater

holding my breath,

then letting it slowly escape;

timed

to reach the bulkhead

emptied out.

This feels like absolution;

sluicing through

the cool water

in a rite of purification,

the burden of weight lifted

the silence a balm.

I am in touch with my body,

muscles reaching, stretching

feeling strong.

The rhythmic motion

of brisk forward propulsion

then effortless glide

is oddly comforting,

as measured

as the mindless tempo

of breathing in and out.

And when I reach the end

I explode up

into cold chlorinated air,

inhaling greedily

and blinking in the light.

But mostly

it's the noise that shocks,

reverberating off

the steel roof

tiled deck

concrete block walls.

Water splashes, music blasts

people chat

loud enough to notice.

The aqua class ladies

are at it again,

their strict instructor

barking out commands

like a marine drill sergeant.

A lifeguard reacts,

raising her voice

when someone runs instead of walks.

And, as always

a cacophony of kids.

Which only increases the lure

of my hermetic water-world.

So I once again submerge

for as long as I can hold my breath,

eyes closed

body slack

arms at rest;

hovering

the way a soaring bird

appears effortless,

riding a thermal

wings outstretched

as it circles steadily higher.

Suspended there

in my solitary lane,

feeling my heartbeat slow

mind drift

time stand still.