breathing

my aunt Rita gave me this poem when I was home.

Taking a Breath by Gunilla Norris

Exhaling, I feel the breath leave me.


When it is cold
I can see this bit of personal steam
Escaping into the air.

Now, . . .if I wait patiently . . .
The breath will remember
to come back.
It will reurn with my life.

Over and over,
my life is returned like this
Because You are breathing me.

This gift is given to me
Countless times a day.
All I have to do is remember!



This is something I do remember, with a mixture of wonder and fear. The emotional repairs from drowning this summer are beginning. It broke through a bit during my yoga practice this morning, while a different philosophy repeated the same thing; be conscious and grateful for this breath.