Skinny dipping

My clothes fall.

I bend over to fold my underwear neatly -- in case of accident, you know --  

uncomfortably aware that my behind is bare.

No -- all of me is bare.

The breeze tickles flesh that rarely feels fresh air.

The sun stares at body parts commonly concealed.

I feel naked. 

I am naked. 

I have bags and sags I don’t want displayed. 

Why am I doing this?

I slide into the water,

like slipping into a silk robe.

I have left my concerns with my clothes.

In the water, I have no weight, no body, no burden.

Soft velvet caresses me everywhere; 

I have no private parts. 

I float enfolded in the womb

that wraps three-quarters of the planet

in loving embrace.

It is not a stranger, not alien, not other. 

The water beyond my skin 

Sings to the water within.

I welcome it. 

I am one with it, one with all. 

No masks, no barriers to hide my nakedness behind.

Just me. 

Free.