I’ve made a few attempts to start this, all of them relating our current situation. It is too awful for a lot of people. Each time I’ve stopped more upset than before. So here’s a different tack, I’m on the escapist route, to run and hide from it all. I’m regressing to happier times for some respite and relief. I wrote this last year during a workshop with the Bealtaine Writers. It was given online for us by Catherine Ann Cullen, courtesy of Poetry Ireland. Take yourselves away then, to your happy place for a while.
The Med is a murky, luscious, warm waterPeter Clarke
pond. Sensual, calm, easy strokes
careen me round La Baie de Fourmis,
body stretched, arm reach by arm reach,
leg kick by leg kick, skin soothed by seaweed,
even jellyfish stings seemed quite benign.
A daily event which delights, invigorates,
burns fat, tones muscle, cools against
the Summer heat, keeps me alive.