I am a child swimming in the sea
I feel so small
Salty water touches my lips
I rise and fall on the waves
The sun is above me
The depth of the water is unknown
I swim with measured strokes
My vision is limited
Time hides from me
I am a child swimming in the sea
I don’t belong here
Yet I came from here
A saline world of distant memory
Cleanses me, supports me, owns my body
I slip through the water arm over arm
In gratitude and uncertainty
Only the sun and moon measure time now
The sea obeys them and I obey the sea
I am free and equally a captive
Courage and fear break over me
In blue-green waves of emotion
I hear a familiar voice,
“Swim on, this your journey”.
I am alone, yet surrounded by life
Infinity is revealed in flashes of light
Bracketed by the parenthetical blackness
I close my eyes in awe and terror
I cannot see what I don’t know
I only know what I feel
Knowledge is useless in the company of infinity
It has no brain to record information
Only hands that reach out and catch me
As I fall into the arms of time.
The sea recedes around me
Only the faintest trace of salt lingers
I am free, I am captured
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The genesis of the poem came to me recently when I was swimming in the clear blue waters of the Ionian Sea. I hadn’t been in saltwater for a very long time. The last time was when I was in the Gulf of Aden swimming alongside a whale shark. Then, as in this recent saltwater experience, I was struck by how supportive and indifferent a sea can be. It will let you drown if you do not conform to its rules.
In this recent experience, I again realized that the sea is in charge. As I swam, enjoying the cool relief from the summer heat, a fatigue quickly came over me. It became imperative that I head to shore. This turned out to be more difficult than I anticipated.
The sea floor was rocky. My feet kept slipping on the steep incline of the shore’s edge. It seemed the harder I tried to make those last few feet, the the more unattainable it felt.
Just as I was about to resort to crawling like a one of Darwin’s creatures evolving to land-based life, my Albanian friend appeared and extended his large hand and pulled me to shore. I promptly sat down and, with heaving chest, regained a reverence for the power of creation and destruction.
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Thanks, Bruce! Love the sea and respect its power. Connie Fowler Strait
Thank you, Bruce ... Sooooo good to read...hear...feel
Cindy