The pain in my stomach

the wrangling with my neighbor

the bills

the restless winter nights,

these are the water

in which I learn to swim.


“Can’t I just stand on shore

while You teach me?”

the mind pleads.




I dive in

so the Beloved can show me

how easily I float.


Once in the water I see…

it is all for me.

This breast and backstroke,

this crawl and butterfly

are the manna of soul,

and the water merely

the resistant force.


Soon within what was a tsunami

I soar weightless,

do somersaults and handstands

relish the bubbles tingling on my skin.


This ocean is my perfect teaching

and You,

my sublime swimming Master.

Discover more from Lesley S. King

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading