I Could Write About the Rain
I could write about the rain.
I could write about wet umbrellas,
About the keys in my coat pocket,
The puddles around the bean boots on my feet.
I could write about how for the first time in a long time, I am learning to trust my muscles.
I could write how I am learning, again, to swim.
The Light at the End of the Tunnel
I wait for the G train to come, eyes burning through the fog.
I remember today,
That if I spend my life trying not to drown,
I will forget how much I love the water.
I will find my harbor, and I will swim.
My body remembers you faster than my heart does.
I move in your embrace,
My eyes grow red and I try to teach my lungs to breathe,
In time to your rhythm.
The first time is always a little slow, a little awkward.
But you meet me and I love our push and pull,
So familiar after all this time.
Kiss me before its time to let you go again,
Until next time.
Growing up is hard to do.
I try not to cry in a train station,
Knowing my days are numbered that I will be there,
Since I was fifteen, I’ve dreamed of fire escapes and small apartments,
But it is hard to unlock the window,
When it’s safe behind the glass.
The world waits for no one,
And rarely do I look before I begin to swim.
It is time to find my rhythm again.
And so we begin. Weekly, I will be posting a poem until next April and the beginning of the next challenge. I am so excited to begin a yearlong endeavour writing poetry, and glad to be able to share it with you.
As always, happy reading.
The trees are blooming again,
And I drive down a road,
Where bare branches are pink again with new life.
I want to pause for a while,
Let the day stand still.
Today is the last Wednesday,
In a long swim of Wednesdays.
No sunset is ever the same.