It Wasn't An Accident Poem by Anna Pine

when the swimmer drowns we know that our world is wrong.

the high schooler who wakes up early every day to go to the pool for practice.
take your mark, go.
underwater, breath held, things are calm and still just for a second- then the explosion of power and strength,7 strokes then breathe then turn and all he has to do is get to the wall first. his training kicks in and there are no thoughts in his head. just left arm then right. kick and breathe.

that was last year.
now he stands on the pier.
sad- hurt- alone in the middle of winter. no suit no cap no diving block. yet when the wind whispers go, he dives. he welcomes the still and quiet.
the sea lets the cold seep into his bones trying to remind him that he doesn't belong at the bottom, the ocean knows he needs to surface and it implores him to kick to the top and swim to the beach.
there is never an explosion of power. no seven strokes. just sinking straight down

the swimmer just waits and slowly lets the black creep in.

even now the ocean still weeps for him