24
Nov
2009
0

in I breathe

What is it that I have
That I was not given

Even the air
I did not make it
I did nothing to deserve it
I did not cultivate it
It was just given
Ready for my harvesting

In I breathe

What of grief
Even that bears witness to gift
The gift of connection
Enflamed with ache
Because it exists
In the field of my heart

In I breathe
With ragged gasps
The gift