Toe in the water
I sit here on the canal bank. My toes skim the water. The sun is lowering more every minute directly into my face, infusing me with warmth, penetrating my soul. A canal boat passes and watching me busily texting the navigator makes a comment about technology and nature. I tell him I’m writing poetry which makes them all laugh. I have come here by cycling gently through my grief. Sometimes the impossible is just that and all you can do is be. As long as you can feel, you are still living. Its not hard to let go, you just have to take your hands from the bars. It worked and now I have found my place.
The water is moving from right to left just enough to be noticed, carried on the gentlest of breezes. The more I settle, the more I hear, the fish and birds spring to life. I dip a toe in the water, it’s cool yet refreshing. I’m beggining to like it, there’s no shock as I would have expected, it just feels lovely. The dark water isn’t murky, just an impenetrable viridian. There’s no urge to swim right now, watching the ripples I create is plenty.
The sun goes down, my soul is enlightened but now can hide in the shadows for a while. The sweep of the canal round the bend beckons, it’s time for home.