Monday, February 21, 2011

Night Dive

By Samuel Green
Down here, no light but what we carry with us.   
Everywhere we point our hands we scrawl   
color: bulging eyes, spines, teeth or clinging tentacles.   
At negative buoyancy, when heavy hands   
seem to grasp & pull us down, we let them,   

we don’t inflate our vests, but let the scrubbed cheeks   
of rocks slide past in amniotic calm.   
At sixty feet we douse our lights, cemented   
by the weight of the dark, of water, the grip   
of the sea’s absolute silence.  Our groping   

hands brush the open mouths of anemones,   
which shower us in particles of phosphor   
radiant as halos.  As in meditation,   
or in deepest prayer,   
there is no knowing what we will see.

Green, S. (1998). The Grace of Necessity, Cistercian Studies Quarterly, 33(1). Pittsburgh, PA: Carnegie Mellon University Press.
Photo Credit: Dan Delong, Seattle P-I. 

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