At first, it’s a dog-paddle, all
kicking and flailing and taking on
too much water. Slow. Slogging. It becomes the breast stroke,
less effort. Sustainable. Getting nowhere fast, so you move into
freestyling the long stroke,
poorly. It’s all about rotating your arms and
paddling your legs in time with
breathing. Learning to coordinate all three. Exhausting.
Gratifying, and you backstroke for a time,
catching your breath. Watching the clouds, the water always tugging,
tugging you back. Tugging you down. Making you swim and swim and swim because
there is no end to the water. No land. No shore. No raft or boat or log to cling to,
just the water’s lazy promise, “I will drown you if I can. I promise. Oh, I vow.”
And so you learn to tread water, for
those times you cannot swim. It’s that or succumb
to the water always whispering, always whispering, always
whispering…
TLD
Modesty Is For Suckers 
I love this one, Terri. Love the subtlety, the undercurrent of emotion.
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Thanks, love. ❤
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Not sure if you wrote this one for Chris but it sure applies to me right now in our current state of national affairs.
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I originally wrote it for Chris, about pain and grief. While riding in the car, I had the thought that pain is like swimming when there’s no land in sight, and if you don’t learn to tread water, you’re a goner.
After I wrote it all out and re-read it, I realized it pertained as much to the current situations in this country (and elsewhere) just as well, so I took out all the “me” and left it open to the readers’ interpretations.
So you got it right on both counts!
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Well, it is beautiful and I feel like even though I know how to tread water, I still might be a goner. I don’t see how we get through all of this.
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You’re not a goner. We will get through this. It’s always worse just before change.
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Very nice.
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❤
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