Breathing

I know how to breathe from my diaphragm.

That deep breath that supports my frame,
my voice, my

self.

That deep breath.

It has been my constant companion.

I sit outside this cold December night.
I watch my breath
blossom like cotton candy against the wine dark sky


And hope I can breathe you out, once and for all.

You and I both know,
this is the land we call nowhere.

We hang on to little pieces, thinking maybe
it is enough.

that we can make it sufficient.

But life is not made of little pieces
and

no matter how tightly or loosely held,
little pieces are never enough.

And so I watch the vapor of my breath
on the cold air.

I watch the way it vanishes

breathing you out.




© Nancy A. Smith
2009