Lungs. A place of life and death and vulnerability…
Breathing With Both Lungs
I once heard it said
Our lungs are where we hold our grief.
When I inhale sharply, to remember
Why does it hurt to breathe?
Lament happened so long ago
Or has it been only a moment or so.
How fully has my memory constricted.
Can I locate the dull ache I long to forget.
Who’s counting? My breathing,
Your breathing, Our breathing. Exhale.
Is the level measured by exhales
Do our inhales even work anymore?
Can we fill our lungs with Presence
Or is it far too late for that now
Now that absence is all we know
Will it always hurt to breathe?
If I practice, will I remember how it was breathing with both lungs?
A few reflections:
This minuscule invader, the virus we are all shellshocked by, attacks the lungs severely.
The two people closest to me who I have lost, months and years ago, both succumbed in part to pneumonia.
My own lungs are the weakest part of me, bronchitis dozens of times as a child, often out of breath more easily than I’d like.
And this day of Good Friday, the crucifixion… this torture meant they die of asphyxiation. A horror many are living now.
Here we are, together in this great collective gasp. Anxiety is stealing our joy breath. Sadness saps our life breath. God whose breath once went out, You suffer with us and for us, and we suffer with each other. Teach us how to breathe again.
~ Janelle
To balance on a bike
you’ve gotta keep moving
but
since we can’t
always move
our lives will improve
if we learn just when
it’s time time time
to put a foot down
to keep
from falling
and breakin
our crown
wise is the way to flow
and forward
is the way
to go
in
this place
called the space
the world we
live and
move through
one constant is change
and though that remains unchanged
when often rearranging our brains
we come out the other side of the
hand carved perception door
quintessentially
the same
Divinely orchestrated events
will try us
test us
and we must
not let
the tough ones best us
lest we stall
fall
into the dark goo
of
self made despair
sucking
for precious air
with our hurting hearts
in
our throats
sad souls
greying
like ghosts
So,
before sanity is gone
with the implosion of brain
the moment we feel
that strange
and
familiar sense
of impending change
we MUST
with Shakespearean
introspective
circumspection
point our hearts,
our goals,
and our
actions
toward Heaven
Listen to the ways
in
which
The Creator speaks to you
some of these might be unfamiliar
or ancient
timeless
or new
“Yea'” timing
is everything
when it’s your turn
to speak
to act
to
choose
turn your
key
take a swing
get on your
knees
or if it’s just one
first buy a ring
or if it’s you
saying, “Yes”,
“No”, or
“Maybe”
with one of three
choices
to choose
maybe pray
now
Before
your
sleek soul
annointed
arrives at that
pointed
life changing
moment
pray the Lord bless you
with
wisdom
discernment
and grace
so when you find
your beautiful
self
in a new place
you will
remember:
Life is for living, and
giving
it’s not some kind
of race.
So welcome to
the world!
Of free reason pandered
will.
Before you go, I must say
still,
If I’ve learned anything from
Shakespeare,
from Hamlet,
from God, through
Bill,
it’s that your
will:
is your own.
And if you will
in the end
white light
rather than fiery
stone;
keep your balance
on your bike.
and keep on your journey
home.
~Luke~
[…] Both Lungs’ tells of grief and struggling to breathe, of hope and gratitude in suffering (read it here). I paired it with a photograph I made in my neighborhood years before, with two mirror trees, one […]