Childhood is Breathing Underwater
Images by Evelyn Chong from Pexels
Do you remember when you launched your body into the deep, cold water,
the surrender as you plummeted through complete darkness,
paused?
That liminal space where your body stopped, before the air re-exerted its claim on you —
the moment the ocean held you in complete trust and submission.
That split second where you wondered if the deep would keep you
and you would stay submerged forever,
gravity and buoyancy in perfect harmony.
A queer, otherworldly pause where time stopped and you were as safe underwater,
as on land.
Then
the inevitable pull upwards
a tunnel to the light
gasping, triumphant
to do it all again,
and again.
Ready for more? Give these a try:
- At Childhood’s End: A MockingOwl Review – A Sci-fi Fantasy Book Review
- Rainsong – Some Poetic Words About the Marsh Rain
- Beware the Hungry Child and it’s Mother – Creepy and Dark Flash Fiction
- Flood Plain — A Poetry Reading – Poetry of Crushed Shells and Cottages
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Andrea Koroluk
Andrea Koroluk is a new Alberta poet, who was inspired to begin writing creatively again after an almost 30-year hiatus. She writes about chronic illness, identity, and nature. She has previously published professional and academic articles on a range of subjects including hermeneutics, social work, and health care.
