Snorkeling with Imaginary Sharks
by Jennifer Bloom
there are at least two ways to enter the water.
holding onto the side of the boat,
in and out,
ebb and flow,
a call and response,
like the tides.
what if there is no crisis?
(though the suffering is felt)
what if there is no conflict?
(though there are vastly different ways of being)
what if we are not at odds?
(though it may appear that way on the surface)
where would it be possible to go?
(though, really, there is no destination)
there was a time when I thought carefree was all there was.
the moment before jumping into the water
and the moment when I come back up for air.
the fear is still here,
but I have expanded like a sponge
with pockets of space enough for a new feeling to enter.
something like appreciation.
lightness of joy, even.
is this what it feels like to be a bird?
this is the part of the dream
where I don’t want to wake up.
light and water interact,
muted tones give way to vibrant hues.
one solitary beam appears in the picture I take.
what is this light?