I sit on the edge,
Scantily clad, the plastic contraption strapped on my head
I'm not ready to jump,
My arms clutch the metal supports on either side of me
It is cold,
All is quiet, the night sky cloudy.
I dip a toe in,
It is colder inside then out
I remain perched on the ladder,
Clinging to it. As if the space were between life and death
Not just between me and the water
I jump.
Change is an odd thing,
Like wearing new underwear
It doesn't feel quite right, as if something is missing
Or just off.
I am again reluctant
This time to leave
The world is cold, much colder outside than inside the water
The sky looks darker
The pool chair is so far away.
My suit will stick to me
My body will weigh me down
My hair once out of the water will become a straw-like mess.
The pebbled floor will feel rough on my skin.
Funny how none of these things bothered me before.
That's the thing about change
It sneaks up on you making the Strange
Familiar
And the Familiar
Strange.
For some reason I will always resist it
Then it becomes mine
The other way forgotten, repulsive, alien
Just like Swimming.
YOU ARE READING
I wish you'd listen
PoesíaSometimes our loved ones cause us the most grief. And sometimes there's nowhere to run from grief, anger, and anxiety. Growing up can be a difficult journey filled with change, aches, and loss. These poems are the introspective thoughts and memorie...
