Time is Water
How differently days start
Time has flooded my rooms
in the form of Water
Some days
I walk
completely submerged
in heavy weights of water
big aqua bricks stacked high
allowing no air
to breathe all day
I merely hold my breath
I am lucky to look
out the front door
But then there are other days
I trudge knee deep
dragging each leg
in tandem slowly
willing mind over matter
pinning notes of
self-appointed tasks
in the byways
of passage through
the house
there are open windows
air breezes into
my lungs
where
I get new ideas
I get new ideas
Yet, on the best days
I dive out of bed
into a lane of water
waiting
for an Olympic swim
I butterfly
until all is done
and I am astonished
to find that
I have been navigating
Oceans
Those days
carry no lamentations
and
no need for cheers
but rather
the gift is in knowing
that
I am fully
Awake
8 thoughts on "Time is Water"
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Oh wow!…..I love everything about this.
The first stanza: almost like an epigraph and echos the title
Ann, I accidentally tapped the post button and will take that as a hint to not write a comment that takes up the whole screen.
Suffice that this work is for me….scripture.
Thank you.
Thank you so much for reading—yes those first lines seemed somehow necessary as a declaration of sorts that there is a reality shift, yet not explaining anything…just inviting entry…this is the shortest version I came to, and glad you seem to see it as working. Thank you so much for your kind comments!
Such a well written poem and totally relatable! I have a feeling I will wake up tomorrow and step right into a puddle or a 50′ wave!
thank you so much for your positive comments–they are very appreciated! I hope that you found navigation through what water levels awaited you!
This is such an original poem. Turning a symbol/metaphor on its head like this is exactly what poetry is for. What better way to get a reader to absorb the meaning of the poem than to mix things up radically? This is just terrific.
Thank you so much for saying all this Linda. It gives me a lot to think about. Poetry has things in common with painting in some ways I am thinking—in terms of creating new realities…maybe not unlike how we come to accept magic realism in movies, where we don’t even question something that we usually think is impossible—but all of a sudden is acceptable. and even embraced.
Thank you for your generous comments!
Thank you so much for saying all this Linda. It gives me a lot to think about. Poetry has things in common with painting in some ways I am thinking—in terms of creating new realities…maybe not unlike how we come to accept magic realism in movies, where we don’t even question something that we usually think is impossible—but all of a sudden is acceptable. and even embraced.
Thank you for your generous comments!