To Breathe

I tried,

but like a flower in a fallow field,

prepared for winter’s time,

seemed it was my time.


I tried.

I breathed the breeze

that seemed,

as I uncurled my look up toward the light,

might equally soothe as singe.


But I felt its life.


Seemed the only way to survive.

The only way to thrive.


I saw others around.

Some budding on.



They shy in the wind.

They live,

but eventually wilt.

They say, reduced to our ultimate fate.

To our ultimate demise.

As others rise.


Seemed strange with the warm sun overhead.

Till the clouds came in.

And the once-soft breeze

cut at exposed soul.


Wounds warrant woe.

Even when the clouds clear,

Memories last.

Just as love leans in

and whispers winds to raise again.

As it will.


As it does

when you uncurl your look up

toward that breath that you feel.


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