what is weakness, anyways?

a poem about swimming pools and freedom from oppression

an ode to Barton Springs, Austin TX

the weightlessness of my body
in the cold spring water.
relieving the past week of carrying
excess heat, despite,
my best intentions
of setting boundaries:
i'm burdened by the weight of the oppressive heat.

we traverse across the barren field,
separating the parking lot
from the pool.
two men are running laps, barefoot. their chiseled chests
glistening sweat.
one wears grey sweatpants.
it's over 100 degrees.

we move through the automated kiosks, obtaining permission
to absolve our bodies
from the burden of oppression.
the sweet, cooling spring waters a guarded oasis.
it's not capitalism creating a gate,
it's a simple system
to save ourselves,
from ourselves.

why can't we have nice things? without finding a way
to let it all go amess.
erecting walls, fences, barriers
will only work so long.
we all need to cleanse ourselves from the weight
of oppression.

still, a veritable garden of eden sits pristine
for those of us who can find a way inside,
a way out.
for the few who can find a way to wash away their impurities.
we enjoy a spartan experience,
gilded by the natural beauties of earth
and bare our bodies to the oppressive heat.

libidinous and free, the weight of being relieved,
for short sips of time,
before requiring another immersion in the spring pool.

who has authority over
your inner constellation of self,
how do you find your way back
where the lines, the boundaries
exist no longer,
where oppression is the seed of energy
on the wind?

indistinguishable forms adrift on waves of being,
a pool of its own making.
endless, and not a weakness in sight.
catacalysmic crashes,
sublime mergers,
separations of souls,
extinction of manifestions.
a returning from earth, to the eternal pool of the subtle.

taking a deep breath in, on a summer night
rain is in the air,
petrichor - we, such as we are,
mere mortals. seeking and striving.
we, too, are part of the immortal pool, the waves
crashing forever throughout eternity.
form <> formless,
back again.

one day at the spring pool,
i count at least 6 women going topless
all with equally perfect and beautiful breasts.
i long for the freedom
of oppression, to free my nipples,
allowing the sun, a ball of energy to warm
and color my whitest, my pinkest parts.

i'm not vulnerable,
nor a victim.
at the spring pool,
in the endless pool
of an endless night.
we simple are.
and we've no weaknesses to speak of.

---

My first summer in Austin, TX - August 2022