Posted in Passages

Immersion

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.