cousin air does the same
breathing grit into cracks once, a thousand, many million times
my diaphragm sinks into belly bellows as I
expand contract how often in this
as I live and breathe
when he says
you never she says
why don’t you they say
how could you
galaxies grow between us and I
could let myself fall into echoing
void of not my fault not me how could they
but when I stood on the rim
between huge bright blue and dizzy deep down to the slow green
trickle of ancient river
I knew I am an atom
now clouds rush to where the sun’s glorious rosy will wake us
and I remember
to choose this here now planet
my stone ribs grow strong
wearing all the air I borrow, all the soft forgiving
2 comments:
all the soft forgiving -- such tenderness! ... to me this reads like a prayer, a meditation on the brahmaviharas of loving kindness and compassion. thank you.
and I read it again and hear it anew.thanks Tannis, your writing gives me SO much - reminder of living from the soul.
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