Existentialism and the search for identity

by Theresa Cecilia Garcia-Newbill

Naked Swimmers

I am the undertow that shapes sand dunes flittering purple and silently
piled high against a New York City skyline and I dance with the soft silver
of the full moon.

I spot the hills when dusk has fallen and give scent to white hydrangeas
that rest in the damp and the dew where prayers of the faithful touch on
dreams.

I am born of wisdom. I feed off the granite shoulders of the earth, deaf to
the monotone taps of beautiful rain. And warm in its sun.

I strike without the blur of contemplation in massive chaos twisting the
bodies of naked swimmers, sunny with freckled faces.

I am a mouthful of teeth that glisten while they shudder, as my soft under
neck invades their lungs with water, scum and dreg splattering the sea
crimson.

I shimmer randomly with phantoms of flesh and bone flung from the past and
burned in unspoken ritual, ashes scattered to the four winds.

The flow of the water clears me of pollution; refuse of humanity. Listen to
my labor- I am not alone in pain and practice.

The earth moves and they plunge, struggling in a bitter pool where the empty
belly beckons the tongue. Think of nothing. I am the sign of it.

One Response to “Existentialism and the search for identity”

~ This piece was posted on Wednesday, February 21st, 2007 and was filed under Writing, Poetry. You can make comments on it below. ~