My hands grip the block

Tension builds until the whistle

Shrieks, and I am free

I wrote that Haiku in English. The poem is me trying to sum up the moment when your on the diving block, waiting to plunge in. It’s such an odd moment; even if the race is deadly serious, even if you where so nervous a couple of minutes ago, even if you think you’re going to do terribly, that moment is perfectly calm. Suddenly nothing matters except the dive- the smooth curve in the air, the entry into the water, and that brief second of submerged wonder.

But then the moment’s over… and your swimming as fast as you can, with the crowds screaming you on and water in your goggles. Then you finish, stand and see that you won the race. Congratulate your opponents and exchange your times, and then you clamber out and blend into a part of the crowd.


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