Electric Jump Start

a morning ritual,

a Friday baptism

by Chicago summer.

my

toes align

with the edge

of the concrete beach,

the 7 am sun already beating down

over the city skyline in the distance.

hundreds of strangers in swimsuits

standing neatly in a row,

the collective

boom boom boom

of heartbeats and stillness

in anticipation

as we wait to rid ourselves

of the sins of winter.

a megaphone

a countdown

a psalm of sorts

3…2…1

jump!

and I do,

plunging straight into icy waters,

engulfed in

cold

and nothing else.

mind frozen,

legs desperately kicking

to break the surface,

I gasp the warm morning air.

I emerge

to an uproar of belly laughs

and cheers,

a celebration of rebirth.

I’m not the same

as I was

only moments ago on the ledge,

unfamiliar with

the holiness of

the communal ice bath,

our bobbing bodies

passing smiles

and brushing limbs

as we tread in the clear depths

of Lake Michigan

together.

heart racing,

adrenaline coursing,

I look toward the sky.

I feel awake

I feel alive

I feel anew,

anointed with

an electric jump start.