{On, In, and Around Mondays} How to dive deep

The water has warmed since we first slipped our toes sideways

past the shimmery surface

to explore what might be hidden beneath

It was early summer then

and we had been tricked into believing

that we lived somewhere further North

where the nights belie the calendar

and the mornings are cloaked with a drop of purple chill

It is further along, now

And many fiery days have blazed and melted

filling the inky pools of dusk

Then

as if devoid of all reason

those same manic days emerge

to sing the familiar refrain on the morrow

There have been no offerings from the sky

all these months

So the lake has a bank now

and there are piles of rocks

large and small

littering the edges

standing like little altars

Ebenezers to the days of rain

There are different water plants, too

Not the familiar duckweed or cattails

But willowy grasses and water dragons in their stead

growing thick and dense

choking out the bellow of the bullfrog

while making beds for cottonmouths

We have come to the water at midday this time

And you boys dive deeper than ever before

I'm startled by your boldness

The lake sort of scares me, of late

And yet you both have grown braver

How is that?

I'm the one inching, by the day, closer and closer to midlife

And where is my fear?

It is palpable and practiced and it pricks at my cheeks

You have decided to explore the bottom of the lake

where it is cold and quiet and dark

Just your feet, at first

and you show me the mud between your toes

proof of your presence in those deep places

My head thinks you should be stunned into defeat

deterred by the muck and mire of the deep

I know I would be

And yet, you both dive under again
letting the green water push you down
further
closer and closer
to the bottom
Your hands reach out
groping along the depths
searching, exploring, mining
and it is there
that you stumble upon them

They are hard and dark and ugly
but you cup them in your hand
like treasure
As you bring them up to the surface
you bathe them in the water that birthed them
clearing away the mud that
has hidden them
all this time

And then
we see it
the sun slants
and the light
finds a crack
and suddenly
ripples of pearled color
fill up the concave space

And what once was 

hard and closed and black

hidden deep and dark and dead

is transformed

by light

I look out on the surface of the lake

across its patterns and dancing light

and I sigh

for I know that this swelling body

that ebbs and flows

that fills and empties

it holds a deep darkness

that grips and scares and blinds

the weight of which

could suffocate

but that same being

with its trills and tender flickers

its deep quiet and silent ear

it has

luminous joy

bursting through its cracks