The daughters of the lake

I take daily dips with the most ordinary extraordinary group of women. The lake is just a four minute walk from my home in Stockholm.

Some of the ordinary extraordinary daughters of the lake, December 2024. Photo by Pernilla Pernsjö.

We are the women of the morning
the day breakers
the first rays beaming in the bay.

We are the rain dancers
the mittened swimmers
the guardians of broken ice.

We leave Monday on the dock
and step into Plungeday
every day
through the sacred ladder.
Step
     by step
          we descend,
               break the surface,
                    see the lion
                         and trust
                              our bodies
                                   to handle
                                        the cold
and breathe.

We are the ice whisperers
the frost dazzlers
the bare skinned snowflake melters.

We are the nose hair freezers
the floe throwers
the sock dancers on frosty boards.

We are the talk of the town
the neighbourhood loonies
the ambassadors of glistening snow.

We are the tub choppers
the goosebump makers.
From rim
     to rim
          we stretch
               like starfish,
                    the heart
                         of the lake,
                              the cherries
                                   in the punch bowl,
sizzling.

We know the shifts of seasons
come rain,
come snow,
wind or shine.
We breathe the phases of water –
bodies in the pool,
hands clasping ice,
smoke on the water
expanding our lungs.

We are the daughters of the lake
the sisters in her womb
the mothers of the day.

We are the laughter in the sunrise
the friends in the storm.
We are the daily dippers
the solstice chorus
the backup singers
to the lullabies
of chiming ice.

Come join us, do!
Put your best socks on
     and sense the beat
          of your heart,
               rippling
                    and roaming
                         through the body
of water.

A sweet dip around the December solstice of 2022.