THE SWIMMER

He’s a swimmer, not a sinker.

Determined not to go under the first time,

never mind the third.

He holds tight to the bird,

his talisman, his crutch, his good luck charm,

and lets the waves roll past.

I will not drown, he says,

in the storm and the mayhem,

under the water’s weight.    

I will use what I have,

to cling onto, to save me,

to pull me back to the shore.  

I will not drift, unheeding

of the dangerous currents,

that will tug me this way and that.

I will keep my head above water,

my mind above matter,

and unending hope in my head.

I will fight, I will struggle,

to the bitter end of survival,

but I will not go down.

Against the cold sea he raged,

against his own fear and terror,

the seductive voice of surrender.

Ignoring all but instinctual

self-preservation , he swam for his life.

And he did not go under.

©Roisin Duffy

TITLE: THE SWIMMER

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