Swimming my way home
All water always opens up a space
exactly me-shaped when I slip inside.
In water I’ve a fluency and grace
I never sense on land, a weightless glide
of limbs, the movement effortless and smooth,
each stroke as easy as a heartbeat or a breath.
The ocean washes me of all untruth
opening me to something alien, immense.
The surface of the sea speaks to my skin –
but not in any language I can understand
however carefully I try to listen in.
What seeps in might be far too huge to handle
while all I’d hoped to keep locked solid, fast
will disappear, dissolve, and will not last.