by Bonnie Radcliffe

Go to the water.
Go to the water, it is waiting.

it isn’t waiting at all.
It will be here the same tomorrow without you, as it with you here today.
Still, today it is here and you are here.
Go into the cold
tiding, waves slapping, till you count,
three, let go.

Let go of the land.
Dive into sweet salt till the cold stings.
Suck in the clouds beneath the surface.
Mud and muck, sand and dust,
arms reflected on the underside,
slide forward.
Sides yawn, shoulders shiver down.
Cold claims you.
Let it.
Let it take you to a place where you are small and strong.
Think of nothing but the cold,
the tight bite of it,
the tingle,
the silver line around your edges,
your outline of

You are impossible and you are alive and every inch of you is singing.

Bonnie Radcliffe

Bonnie Radcliffe is a writer based in the southeast. She is a keen wild swimmer and has previously written features for The Outdoor Swimming Society. She has recently completed The Mawddach Residency for emerging artists and writers. Her work explores storytelling and the sea, women and water, nature, daughterhood and folklore. She is currently working on a gothic novel set in the 1920s.

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