Standing in the Water

I’m standing in the water. It’s up to my calves already. My father was always telling me: you must get your feet wet. I never understood what he meant. Was it something about getting involved?

My mother always said: be careful. Don’t go near the water. It’s dangerous. I thought I knew what she meant: I am a nervous ninny, I do not want the world to harm you as it has harmed me, as I guess she always knew that the world would harm me. 

So, my attitude to water was and is somewhat ambiguous. Confused. Ambidextrous. Unsure, as with the knife and fork, I never quite knew which side of the plate I should put the water.

But now that I’m actually standing in the water, I see my father was right. My feet are wet, I feel energised, enterprising, ready to wade! I know I can do something about the water. I can try anything!

But I hear my mother’s voice. The water is cold. It seeps. It has already reached my knees.

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James Norcliffe has published eleven collections of poetry, most recently Deadpan (Otago University Press, 2019) and Letter to ʻOumuamua (Otago University Press, 2023). In 2022 he was awarded the New Zealand Prime Minister’s Award for Literary Achievement in poetry.