Respire

A poem

by on

The very breath of him,
he
who breathes easy and slow
because he knows
the next will come
It will be given to him

But me, I am unsure,
and I would hold mine
just to watch and
hear him
be delivered from
one moment to the next

I know he would not
take
it so I grasp at
the faith he has
in the rise of his chest
after the preceding fall

An exhale then
I stare up
to the ceiling to
borrow
some time before
his next inhale

I pray for the sound
then
turn my eyes down
to watch for
the lift of his chest
and fall of my own

With a brand
new belief I
give back,
return the air
I have used
without fear of no return

I listen to these
transactions that sound
like a part of love
I never understood
before as
music