In turgid water with arms outstretched,
each determined stroke a bold act to
move within the grip of its cold embrace,
trying to temper the body in its motion.
His naked buttocks quiver in the dark
chilled sea; an endless soaking purgatory.
From squeak of dawn he has waited with
keen determination for this ritual hour.
Can you see him dive deeply into the
darkness, eyelids closed tight like a clam
as he travels the path of least resistance,
a silent fear of lost direction his only thought.
Tendrils of kelp torment his pale flesh,
their elongated swirls make his efforts
a sad imitation of the sea’s inhabitants
as they tease this inept, late-come mariner.
He has baptised himself in the ancient mother
with scant regard for her fluid validation
while he travels through her pulsating womb,
awaiting the chance to crawl into to a new life.
Blurred vision allowes shards of virid sunlight
guide him towards the sanctuary of ancient
granite, warmed and awaiting his shivering,
lumbering form; he slither slowly ashore.
Droplets of living moisture evaporate upon his
invigorated self, allowing those other travellers
begin their own cycle of life on this strange orb, as
did the ancestors of all through the mercy of time.
Adrian Kavanagh
2 comments:
Adrian, this is a very evocative poem, and a clever interpretation of the theme. I know the protagonist is human: 'buttocks', 'eyelids', 'flesh' etc; but the line 'lumbering form; he slithers slowly ashore' suggests primeval forms of life. So my take on it is that the man is a symbol for mankind, and the 'ritual hour' is his evolutionary journey. The time frame is compacted to a brief struggle 'From squeak of dawn' to new life in 'vivid sunlight'. Hope I'm right!
On one level, I found this a vivid metaphor for evolution; on another, it seemed to define swimming as a masochistic pursuit.
On both levels, it embraced the human experience.
Bill Guy
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