from DIVING LESSONS
Friday: death of God. Sunday: birth of body.
i. Relocation
Dive deeper into God: she’s relocated,
bequeathing the heavens to faeries
and astronauts. She’s chosen darkness:
a sett under the ocean, a space
at the pit of your belly; a cry.
This is the wordless womb birthing
word, colour, opening into sun.
ii. Numbers
Dive deeper into God: she’s reunited.
Forget the three: there’s two
into one – that’s you-
in-christ or christ-in-you
doing the tree dive: upwards
into pain, arms outstretched, then
the perfect three-day arc down into the source,
the sea, the non. So,
count up again: christ-you
and creator-emptiness. Two?
No, one! One breath, one axis,
with two poles, two movements
into one circle. Life dives into death,
death bursts into life: diastole, systole.
Fire flares, warms, sears, crumbles to ember: watch.
iii. A Life
Dive deeper into God. Today
we have the sky dive, up. Yes, I lied:
the relocation was temporary.
She’s arched like a gymnast order valtrex online across curved space
into the dance of the sky.
So fall upwards into nothingness
whose colour is light.
[…]
iv. Prelude
Dive deeper into God, but don’t
strip off yet. Wear a first-communion meringue,
a Protestant suit, a hat to outdo the others.
Sport a creed; arm yourself
with the steel of a rationale;
bear a tradition like a tortoiseshell,
or a spirituality like a brightly coloured scarf.
Others have built impressive promenades
at water’s edge: parade along them,
strut your stuff, give us a twirl before you jump:
a flash of your chosen accoutrements against the seaside sky.
No striptease is required. One day you’ll dive
so deep the water’s force
will do the stripping for you.
Chris Fewings lives in Birmingham and writes poems, stories, rants and reflections (some of which have been published) and loves reading or reciting poetry aloud, from Shakespeare to Kei Miller.