(I somehow lost my post in the middle of reviewing it--sorry if this ends up posted twice! Now let's see if I can remember what I wrote.)
I was talking with a friend about swimming and she said she started "swimming for life" x number of years ago. I got the sense that she meant that it was more than a good workout--it kept her "alive." I have to admit that it has that kind of effect for me, too. At the risk of sounding too new-agey, it's nourishing in more than a physical sense.
What does swimming mean to you? How does that compare to other sports or activities you do? How does that meaning influence your goals and performance?
AFTER
But where did it go, you asked
about the soul of the forum.
carved from its soft chest
then withered. so I told you welcome
again, when the speckled threads did not appeal
once more, when we dug our heels into the thick sand
and stared at the wide, white whale bones that,
rapidly, from the ocean, tumbled onto print
to boil, telling us humor is death and as desired as a stone.
But where did it go?
I ask all the time now
searching for you in the plum trees
seizing their indigo wrists to uncover a pulse
again, when I scour the shoulders of the posters
reprimanding each title that might hide you.
once more, calling your name into the open water
as if your soul, like leviathan bones, will slide to shore
for you, I try to unravel the silk bolts of friendship, try
to strip bare the tendentious barb
until there is nowhere left to look
but as soon as I'm sure you're gone
you, intangible, appear everywhere
breathable. unfeigned. now I see you
in the bent pages of threads and thumbnails
you are the music that builds and sustains us, the fire,
the art, the endless splash of colour, both light and ominous
the weather that shakes us,
the other souls whose love and laughter kept some alive.
you are the forum that beckons, beguiles
and welcomes all, no matter
no matter the opinion or tone that emits,
sometimes unbidden
I can hear you in the voices of strangers and friends
and you say
right here right here right here.
AFTER
But where did it go, you asked
about the soul of the forum.
carved from its soft chest
then withered. so I told you welcome
again, when the speckled threads did not appeal
once more, when we dug our heels into the thick sand
and stared at the wide, white whale bones that,
rapidly, from the ocean, tumbled onto print
to boil, telling us humor is death and as desired as a stone.
But where did it go?
I ask all the time now
searching for you in the plum trees
seizing their indigo wrists to uncover a pulse
again, when I scour the shoulders of the posters
reprimanding each title that might hide you.
once more, calling your name into the open water
as if your soul, like leviathan bones, will slide to shore
for you, I try to unravel the silk bolts of friendship, try
to strip bare the tendentious barb
until there is nowhere left to look
but as soon as I'm sure you're gone
you, intangible, appear everywhere
breathable. unfeigned. now I see you
in the bent pages of threads and thumbnails
you are the music that builds and sustains us, the fire,
the art, the endless splash of colour, both light and ominous
the weather that shakes us,
the other souls whose love and laughter kept some alive.
you are the forum that beckons, beguiles
and welcomes all, no matter
no matter the opinion or tone that emits,
sometimes unbidden
I can hear you in the voices of strangers and friends
and you say
right here right here right here.
