Posted in Passages

Immersion

Posted on by tq1695

Rain was the only redeemer
cold,
fear,
anxiety
incompetence. No excuse. Forget it.
Swimming in the frigid open air school pool,
compulsory,
unless you had a note from your mother.
Don’t even think about, thinking about it –
mine never wrote such petitions.
I thought that cruel,
unloving,
mean,
complicit.
Now,
I think it preparatory and loving –
tough loving,
conditioning for the chills and mandatory of life.

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Author:

Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.