Good Friday
Poetry
i’ve developed a habit of doing things
inefficiently primarily out of my interest
of not letting my heart completely dissolve.
my secretive laziness was eased when I read the words
from a thinker from the East who said, “There is nothing more tragic
than one who is well-adjusted to a sick society.”
of late, I am taking a mid-day swim in the Atlantic when
I could be being productive and ambitious.
on days when the tide is low, I walk out
until the water reaches my upper belly.
then I dive in and swim out so far
that the pieces of me that I dislike are hardly rememberable.
when I’m past the waves, I float on top
of the ocean and with my eyes unfocused
I drift into an element where all those tormenting
questions sink into the deep blue, and the self,
as I have come to know it, even if temporarily,
lightens.
when I return, life is lovelier than I recall
and the fragments of my life that I wanted
to abandon left on shore, take on a glow
that is too beautiful to ignore.
