The Swim

English Poem Poetry

By KC

I swim with the flow of the river.
The cold water cools not just my skin, but also my worries.
I can barely hear over the rapids.
I can barely see through the spray as it crashed all around.
I hold my breath, and my lungs burn.
My muscles scream out in protest as I strain to keep moving.
It’s a good feeling, honed over years of dedicated training.
It’s the same feeling I get when I awake, and thank God I’m alive.
For there is no greater freedom.
It is liquid life I swim through, confirmation I am alive.