For a Lost Swimmer

(Parts read during the Healing Gathering on Friday, still in progress)

Prayer for the Unknown Swimmer

I have been you

Under the surface

Listening to the water

The sun streaming down

Like directions into the sky

We come here for peace

We shall look for you

And we will guard ourselves

and those around us

from being overtaken

As much as we can

We hope you have found your peace

And the last view, afternoon sunlight diffused through water

Dying, cradled in the arms of an old friend

==

I took a picture of a tourist the other day.

She was bringing her 6 month old baby

Held her securely above the water

Both giggled as her toes dipped into the water and kicked.

The first delicious taste of cool water.

Every time we breach the surface,

we are reborn.

Amniotic fluid, baptism, daily showers and rain

never enough until it floods.

Walden has watched us through the years and seasons.

Underwater for the first time,

friends and lovers we introduce

Glorious days of sun we share with strangers

And rainy days of mist which draw us into smaller insect worlds.

Henry's endless varieties of plants,

even he could not name all the visitors.

I wish I had a picture of the first time.

Walden holds us.

first frost

silver ghosts

Walden holds all of us.

We contain multitudes.

It holds our footprints in the sands, every stroke,

the first glorious morning our parent brought us to the shores.

Held us aloft above the surface, secure

Even Henry drowned. (Tuberculosis)

"A lake is the landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth's eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature." - Henry David Thoreau, 9. The Ponds, Walden

“Be it life or death, we crave only reality. If we are really dying, let us hear the rattle in our throats and feel the cold in the extremities; if we are alive, let us go about our business.”

We see you.

In the sunlight

In the sunset

Every person baptized by these waters

Or words

We will find you

Again and again

In this Fall

The sunset comes too soon

And the cold

We, lost in the forest,

Engulfed by the dark

Guide us, with whatever you have now

And we will care for you.

Our lost brother

75 yards

20 feet

63

The other shore

Never the same river twice

The Pond holds us all

Every day

Every visit

Footsteps as plentiful as grains of sand

Fertile forest floor

Silver ghosts of salmon

Swim in the deepest

We, the living, will look harder

Help

Bikers, hikers

We will be kinder

More considerate

Try to be careful on our own journeys

We will find you in the setting sun

Henry's footsteps

Decordova's vision

Children and tourists

Help us

When we are missing

What we miss in our lives

The sunset of our days

The chill is on us all

We are you

Help us to find

We will listen for each other

May you be at peace.

We will find you

Again and again

A Simple Healing Ceremony

The weather on Friday was not cold enough to keep the Regulars away.

Sitting around after a spin in the water, one told stories of a lost swim fin.  How it was found a few years later, before the undergrowth had bloomed.  20 feet of water can be awfully clear early in the Spring.

2 were there who had been there on Sunday.  Pointed to a spot where 3 people had been.  This time of year, there are so few people that you notice.  Pointed across the pond in the direction of the likely route.  It could happen to any of us.



And so, a few people gathered on the shores as the sun set.

A guitar and a candle.  A poem and a few words from Henry's book.

The Earth's Eye.

Voices raised in song.  "We're All Swimming to The Other Side"

A lone swimmer remained in the water; ripples were the only things left behind.  She stayed past the closing horn, past the dying of the light.  (A swimmer after my own heart.  If I could, I'd live in Walden. Not "AT" Walden, like Thoreau, but "IN", like a mermaid.)

The candle echoed the sunset.  The cloud cover made the sunset darker and seemed to steal time from us.  But the light broke through on the horizon.

(The first time I swam across, the dark clouds made me lose track of time.  On my return lap, they had cleared and given me back several hours of sunlight.  I sang "Blue Skies" to myself, faith in the sky.) 

And here is the breakthrough of the light.  With help from my photographer friend, and an open shutter. 

 Walden remains whether we can see it or not.

Lost Man

Sunday was a beautiful day.  Perfect for a swim.

The Walden Woods Project posted the above marvelous picture (Monday afternoon, 2:28pm on FB) with the caption:

"The woods were beautiful this morning, full of fog and funnel-weavers' gossamer."

The picture seemed like an oil painting from another time.

Sunday evening, just as the sun was fully setting, a man was reported missing.  That Monday afternoon, the Woods were full of police officers, searching.  Hoping that a man had staggered out of the water, getting lost and hopefully just confused and dehydrated.

I have spent the past summer, and summers before that, wandering through the woods.  I have stayed on the paths mostly. This past summer especially, I joined a group of hikers calling themselves "Saunterers", like Henry.

I know the paths. The trees melting into their fall colors.  Spiders and small bugs.  Things which were unknown to me once.

I know the surface of the pond.  I do not know the bottom.

He was found on Tuesday, just before noon.  75 yards from shore, in water 20 feet deep.

Rest in Peace.