Breaking the spell

My body has its own voice and
today it’s asking me to go
in the lake for a winter swim.

Today, my body says – no more excuses, girl –
I want to feel cold and wet
and move through the water with ease.

No resistance, no hesitation.
Large strokes, long movements.
Like a fish, head under water
and eyes open.

Today is the day I break the spell
an old fisherman put on me
when my mother, my brothers, and I
spent a winter on the Mediterranean shore.

I was three years old and already knew
that I belonged to the water’s edge,
constantly pulled towards the waves,
whatever the weather.

That morning, we were ready for mass
and while my mother was distracted,
I ran to the shore in my Sunday clothes.
Thinking he was being helpful, the man stopped me.

And he,
at that moment, saved my patent leather shoes.

I don’t remember what he said to me
about sea monsters
dragging down and eating
misbehaved little girls,
but his words have kept me from
swimming ever since.

I live at the edge of water and, except
on hot days and never venturing far,
I seldom get in.

And if I feed on changing horizons and
the play of light on water,
I rarely allow myself the pleasure of total immersion.
One ancient curse holds me back.

But today, my body knows what it wants.
Today we’re going in – trusting.

Unrestrained.
Today, we’re breaking the spell.

Image by lauralucia from Pixabay