Momentary Silence

Momentary Silence

Ears equalize on descent as the passing shoreline
recedes and the brightness of day succumbs
to filtered light, eyes adjusting to another world.
Breath calm and regulated, focus turns
to the passing terrain. Mindful of hazards,
eyes scan the river bottom for items of significance
only to the diver, any thought of value long lost
to those who lost them. In a silence broken
only by that rhythmic breathing, thoughts rise
from their compartments. The day’s events,
concerns, are processed, consideration given
to matters whose weight seems less, floating
away within the surrounding peacefulness.
As the constraints of time are felt, the world
above calls. Rising to the light of day, willing
to face its demands, that silence is left behind,
the moment of solitary existence now past.

While scuba diving during the 1980s and 1990s, more than a hundred
of my dives were done while drifting with the current in the Niagara River.
(With the arrival of zebra mussels in the 1990s, visibility was 20 – 40 feet.)

This is my response to Poetics – Solitude, from Björn at dVerse Poets Pub.

29 thoughts on “Momentary Silence

  1. Good catch, good capture. Until recently I had not the slightest idea how important diving was to you. When I was young I only did skin and snorkle. Caught a few abalone, witnessed the turquoise beauty of La Jolla outside the cove, but never went much deeper than ten or twelve feet for thirty or forty seconds.
    And never, ever, dove in a river. My currents were the coast, bending around the point of right angles and gyre current, here at the head of a great, deep canyon of the sea.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, Daniel. Most of my diving was in “cold” water, but I did dive at Bonaire and Cozumel. Diving in the Niagara was a “lazy” dive. Once we kicked out 100 yards on the surface, we let the current do the work. Timing an exit could be tricky, though. Some days the current might be swifter, or carry us more to the middle of the river, so that rising to see the shore is farther away – or sometimes too soon – meant a hard kick in to shore.

      Like

  2. I see parallels between drifting along for us with the virus. Funny that the “invasive species” of then and now gives us an opportunity to see, even as it devastates our ecosystems.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I’ve never been underwater diving, although a great uncle dived for the Royal Navy with an aqualung back in the day. How amazing that you’ve completed so many dives! Your poem took me underwater with you, gave me an idea of how beautiful it is, but also how dangerous it can be. I love ‘’the brightness of day succumbs / to filtered light’ and ‘In a silence broken /only by that rhythmic breathing, thoughts rise / from their compartments.’

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s