Swimmer by Michael Baron


There is warm weather today
He writes from prison says
he does not know Wordsworth
But that moving from reading
To writing is his necessity if
The spirit is to stay alive.

How does the spirit stay alive
When the flowers grow beyond 
The bars and in the mountain 
Villages snowdrops gather in
Clusters free and unashamed?

He does not think he deserves
The title ‘poet’ more a teller
Of tales a chronicler it’s more
Important to be human open
Loosed from evil nothingness.

He is a swimmer who has to swim
Because he is in the sea 
Because each wave threatens
Because wild currents will move 
Him too quickly from the land.

Swimming is what one does
A moving body is rhythm
Hands arms and legs unite
Bright breath dreams its way
Eyes set on safe blue  hills.

He writes daily from prison
Like the bravest of swimmers
He ‘ll reach the fabled shore of love
But when when when even 
As long seasons drift on teach
Discipline of things and surprise.

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