At my summer camp,
when I was a child,
We had three swim levels in our lake.
At the beginning,
when we still didn’t know how to swim,
they put us in red water,
the shallow water,
with our feet on the ground.
Red water was crowded with children
who were frightened of what lived under the water:
maybe the Loch Ness monster,
or Pirhana,
or from all kinds of things that children imagine
and whisper to each other about.
In red water we swam
between red buoys and connected silver docks
as our boundaries.
We learned to do the dead man’s float,
and surface dives,
and somersaults, forward and backward.
And we also learned how to hold our breath under the water.
After two summers in red water,
even though I didn’t want to leave,
I graduated to yellow water.
There we learned how to tread water
and to swim from one silver dock,
along the length of the yellow buoys,
to another silver dock.
We started with the elementary backstroke,
with legs shaped like a frog,
and arms like snow angels,
and then we learned the breaststroke,
very much the same, but upside down,
with our faces in the water.
Time after time,
I found myself under the dock,
because I couldn’t swim straight,
and I couldn’t see anything under the water.
And again, after two summers,
My fifth and final summer at camp,
I graduated to green water,
the deep water.
There were several small silver docks scattered far away from me,
and we learned how to dive from the docks,
and to swim and swim without rest.
In truth,
there was one more level beyond green water,
for the talented kids, or the ones who worked hard.
And in that level, the kids swam beyond the boundaries.
I watched them as they swam under the green buoys,
across the lake,
to the big rock that I could not see.
And never, in five years, did I want to swim with them,
And never, in those five summers,
did I stop being scared of the unknown things,
that hid themselves.
In my dreams, often,
I am still stuck there
in green water.
And no matter what I do,
or how far I swim,
I can never escape from the deep water,
and from everything that lives in the darkness.
המים העמוּקים
בָּמָחָנֶה הָקַיִץ שֶׁלִי,
כְּשְׁהָיִיתִי יָלדָה,
הַיוּ בָּאַגָם לָנוּ שָׁלוֹשׁ רָמוֹת לְשְׁחִיָיה.
בָּהָתְחָלָה,
כְּשְׁאָנַחְנוּ עָדַיִין לֹא יַדעוּ לִשְׂחוֹת,
הֵם שָׂמוּ אוֹתָנוּ בָּמַיִם הַאָדוּמִים,
הָמַיִם הָרְדוּדִים,
עִם הָרָגְלַיִם שֶׁלָנוּ עַל הַקָרקָע.
הָמַיִם הַאָדוּמִים הַיוּ צפוּפִים בְּיְלָדִים
שְׁנִבְהָלוּ מִמָה שְׁגָר בְּתוֹך הָמַיִם:
אוּלַי מִפלֶצֶת לוֹךְ נֶס,
אוֹ פִּירָאנָה,
אוֹ כֹּל מִינֵי דְבָרִים שְׁיְלָדִים מְדָמְיָינִים
וְלָחשׁוּ עָלֵיהֶם אֶחָד לָשֵׁנִי.
בָּמַיִם הָאָדוּמִים, שָׂחִינוּ
בֵּין מְצוּפִים אָדוּמִים לְרְצִיפֵי כֶּסֶף מְחוּבָּרִים
כְּגבוּלוֹתֵינוּ.
לָמַדנוּ לָעָשׂוֹת צִיפָת הָמֵתִים,
וְצלִילוֹת פְּנֵי הָשֶׁטַח,
וְסְלָטוֹת, קָדִימָה וְאָחוֹרָה.
וְגָם לָמָדנוּ אֵיך לָעָצוֹר אֶת הָנְשִׁימָה מִתַחַת לָמַיִם.
אַחָרֵי שׁנֵי קַיִצִים בָּמַיִם הַאָדוּמִים,
אָפִילוּ שְׁלֹא רָצִיתִי לָעַזוֹב,
הִתקָדָמתִי לָמַיִם הַצְהוּבִּים.
שָׁם לָמַדנוּ לִדרוֹך מַיִם
וְלִשְׂחוֹת מִרְצִיף כֶּסֶף אֶחָד,
לְאוֹרֵך הָמְצוּפִים הָצְהוּבִּים,
עַד רְצִיף כֶּסֶף שֵׁנִי.
הִתחַלנוּ עִם מְשִׁיכַת הָגַב הָיְסוֹדִית,
עִם הָרָגְלַיִם בְּצוּרָת צְפָרדֵעַ,
וְזרוֹעוֹת כְּמוֹ מָלאַכֵי שֶׁלֶג,
וְאַחַר כָּך לָמַדנוּ אֶת מְשִׁיכַת הָחָזֶה,
מַמַשׁ דוֹמֶה, אַבַל הָפוּך,
עִם הַפָּנִים בָּמַיִם.
פָּעַם אָחַרֵי פָּעַם,
מָצַאתִי אֶת עָצמִי מִתַחַת לַרְצִיף,
כִּי לֹא יָכוֹלתִי לִשׂחוֹת יָשָׁר,
וְלֹא יָכוֹלתִי לִראוֹת שׁוּם דַבַר מִתַחַת לָמַיִם.
וְשׁוּב, אַחַרֵי שׁנֵי קַיִצִים,
הָקַיִץ הָחָמִישִׁי וְהָסוֹפִי שֶׁלִי בָּמָחָנֶה,
הִתקָדָמתִי לַמַיִם הַיְרוּקִים,
הָמַיִם הָעָמוּקִים.
הָיוּ שָׁם כָּמָה רְצִיפֵי כֶּסֶף קטָנִים מְפוּזָרִים רָחוֹק מִמֶנִי,
וְלָמַדנוּ לִצלוֹל מֵהָרְצִיפִים,
וְלִשְׂחוֹת וְלִשְׂחוֹת לְלֹא מְנוּחָה .
בְּאֶמֶת,
הָייתָה עוֹד רָמָה אַחַת מְעַל הָמַיִם הָיְרוּקִים,
לָיְלָדִים הָמוּכשָׁרִים, אוֹ שׁעָבדוּ קָשֶׁה.
הָיְלָדִים בָּרָמָה הָזֹאת שָׂחוּ מֵעֵבֶר לָגְבוּלוֹת.
צִיפִּיתִי בָּהֶם כּשְׁהֵם שָׂחוּ מִתַחַת לָמְצוּפִים הָיְרוּקִים,
לְרוֹחָב הָאַגָם,
עַד הָאֶבֶן הָגָדוֹל שְׁלֹא יָכוֹלתִי לִראוֹת.
אָף פָּעַם, בְּחָמֵשׁ שָׁנִים, רָצִיתִי לִשׂחוֹת אִיתָם,
וְמְעוֹלָם לֹא, בְּחָמֵשֶׁת הָקַיצִים הָאֵלֶה,
לֹא הִפסָקתִי לְפָחֵד מְהָדבָרִים הָלֹא יְדוּעִים,
שְׁהִסתִירוּ אֶת עָצמָם מִתַחַת לָמַיִם.
בָּחָלוֹמוֹת שֶׁלִי, לְעִיתִים קרוֹבוֹת,
אַנִי עַדַיִין תקוּעָה שָׁם,
בָּמַיִם הָיְרוּקִים.
וְזֶה לֹא מְשָׁנֶה מָה שְׁאַנִי עוֹשָׂה
אוֹ כָּמָה רחוֹק אַנִי שׂוֹחָה,
לְעוֹלָם לֹא אוּכָל לִבְרוֹחַ
מֵהָמַיִם הָעָמוּקִים,
וְמְכֹּל מָה שְׁחַי בָּחוֹשֶׁך.
If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.
Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?
rachelmankowitz 
That’s outstanding, Rachel. I know you are talking about a lot more than the water and the swimming that is on the surface of this poem, but it resonated. I hated swimming lessons as a kid!
Thank you!
Don’t be afraid, god’s with you. Please.
Thank you!
I don’t swim nor do I like things hidden in darkness. Stay in the light. Hugs.
Thank you!
I hated swimming lessons and have never gotten better but love to play in the water. I guess life is like that too, there are some things I am still afraid of but still dabble in them
We do what we can!
Really enjoyed this. I was one who swam beyond the green water. Many called me reckess for doing so. But your piece makes me wonder, what is it inside us that fires us in these different directions. Nurture or nature? A combo, sauced with something more?
Your memory causes me to wonder. Cheers, Michael
I’m so glad! I love when things resonate!
i agree. Im not comfortable in any place I can’t see, but i go anyway. Your poem is haunting, but beautiful.
Thank you so much!
I love your moving allegory.
Thank you so much!
I found myself with you here Rachel
“to the big rock that I could not see.
And never, in five years, did I want to swim with them,
And never, in those five summers,
did I stop being scared of the unknown things”
Yet here you are, here we are, still swimming, unknown things be damned, in a bit of a fishbowl maybe but still swimming and wording around about it and outside of it too. I never discount where I am at, I just try to write about it which you do so well. I’ve got my well earned pleasures and treasures. That is the thumb in the eye to the naysay.
Plus I didn’t really like any of them anyway.
Cheers friend
Thank you so much!
For one who never wanted to go as far as the big rock look how far you’ve come. We are all thrilled that you made it out this far.
Thank you so much!
As a kid, swimming didn’t frighten me all that much. I was also curious about the outside world. As an adult, I have dysautonomia, and swimming is frightening and disorienting….and I’ve developed fear of the outside world. Funny how the two go together.
You know what? Green water is good enough!
I’m so jealous of people who know what it feels like to not be afraid, even for a little while. Though maybe the fear is easier to deal with when it is so familiar.
I wish we could become desensitized to it.
Me too.
Learning to swim and swimming through life—well stated.
Thank you!
A wonderful metaphor, Rachel. I know you are writing about swimming but I think there’s something beneath the surface. A healthy fear of the water is not a bad thing.
Thank you! There is always something beneath the surface, in my experience.
It would be scary to come up under the dock, but otherwise, the different levels and their areas sound like a good idea.
I liked the organization of it too. Though towards the end I wished they could add a few more levels of training and containment before the expanse of water opened up.
Yes, it seemed to be well done.
So full of emotion.
Thank you!
Treading through dark waters is quite challenging but I have read numerous posts of yours that do offer a glimmer of light 😏💞
There are glimmers everywhere, but they’re not always visible. It depends on which way you are looking at the moment.
At first you brought me back to camp in the Catskills, near Monticello – your ending and relating it to your life was raw and emotional. thanks for sharing for personal journey and for bringing me along for the swim – 😊
Sharing it in Hebrew continues to WOW!!! me!!!
Thank you so much!
I never went to a summer camp, (not a thing in England) and also never learned to swim. I wasn’t scared of what was in the water, just of the water itself.
Best wishes, Pete.
So interesting!
It’s okay to want to stay safe. I used to not like swimming until I went a Mediterranean holiday where the outside was hot, and the water was pleasantly cool, and it was so clear that I could see the rocks and fish easily. That got me into snorkelling. I couldn’t understand till then how you could relax in deep water. I hope you get the opportunity at some point Rachel.
That sounds wonderful!!!!
Heartbreaking. ❤
I wish I could find a way into your subconscious and replace all those fears with light and laughter, Rachel. But you expressed them powerfully, if that helps.
Thank you, and thank you.
I didn’t want to leave,” it stays with me through the rest. It’s hard to read this poem and not insert one’s own experience in childhood with water. We learned to swim at the community pool, and there were skills to learn at camp. I am squeamish over what’s in the water; I don’t even like to watch programs about shipwrecks. I like the open way you or/as the speaker disclose memories and within these the origins of influences that might persist in later life.
I love when I’m reading someone else’s story and it morphs into my own somewhere along the way, as if we are living intertwined lives.
This blog was kind of a new format for you resembling free form poetry. I look forward to your interest in our upcoming road trip destinations.
Thank you!
I’m with Tzippy. I don’t want to go swimming anymore, either!
Oh, and really loved your freestyle poem, as well as learning about your swimming experience.
Thank you!
hope it isn’t all too often you have this dream, I wholly relate nonetheless, but mine is about having missed the class where a thing was covered (I went through periods of not attending class)
I’ve had those too!