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Holding yourself softly: a retreat from chaos

Suzie Beckley

Swimming in the air,
this is what it is to be older,
the limbs in my head spread wide, 
and I am balanced on the surface 
of all the things I told myself to be true.
They don’t shatter,
they never do,
but the ripples that my fingertips make have grown.

I am on the surface,
but in the water still,
observing the bigger movements,
but a passenger of my own time.

Listening to the current,
I stop fighting myself. 

I want to remember this water.
It’s not a feeling that can be repeated:
remembering yourself alive.
He joked that no one was swimming in it because it was a mirror,
but maybe he was right,
seeking out an unknown part of yourself,
sometimes it comes when you least expect.

A cold warmth.
You can’t feel anything,
but at the same time you feel everything.
The mountains create a vacuum
and the sky becomes the mirror
and every corner of yourself rests upon the surface,
growing and ungrowing.

The threads untangle themselves,
and you are just breath and flesh.

suzie photo.jpg
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