Thursday, October 13, 2011

Swimming Pool Ceremonies

My seven-year old toes
grasped rough, warm concrete,
with the primeval terror
that sc
rea
m
s
for sun-baked stone,
as I tottered,
knobbly knees weak.
I reeled at the knife-thin line
between edge and water.
The vast liquid expanse
lay, blue, blue, blue before me,
bottomless.
Legends of sea serpents
flickered in bookshelves of memory.

My throat dry,
I realized
that I could not go home that night,
damned coward.
And with the effort
of a host of stallions
dragging a secret,
bumping along,
monstrously reluctant;
eruptions of dust
burst in its wake,
I pushed
off the steaming poolside
and
le
ap
ed
through the sapphire surface
into chasm depths.

And in the name
of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

I thought I would die in solid turquoise,
the currents wrapping me
in overpowering presence,
the water warm as blood,
deafening my eyes, drowning my ears.

Then, the trapped sunlight
fluttering in pool corners,
threading thick fluid,
rushed, in a glisten-winkling frenzy
of coruscating flurry,
into soul and core,
igniting my granite-heavy heart,
releasing a hundred doves.

And in the name
of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

I found myself
borne up by watery arms,
the mystery of floating;
the feathery beating
of white, white wings,
pounding in ears,
vibrating in veins
in restless quicksilver.

My head shattered the glass surface,
hosts of drops exploding
in liquid fireworks,
sunlight glinting
through a million prismal facets,
runnels of chlorine
straggling down my cheeks
like tears
while the dizzy world cracked wide
in a
P E A L
of laughter.

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