Dagogo Hart spoke of Paper Planes in a moving poem, about how our breath keeps planes in the sky, how poets are daydreamers, aspiring for birds but settling for butterflies. His friend is a tree, she is deeply rooted into the Earth …
This inspired me to write a poem on breath. Poems like air, are free and free to envelop the earth.
I breathe in life like a poem and exhale in a poem too.
The air is free and there is no price high enough for poetry,
no place far enough to reach and no heart, hard enough to caress.
It’s the inhale and the exhale that remind me of the rhythm of the Earth,
the fragrance of flowers versed in colour, the wind raising water
in the meter of waves, clouds holding the sky in rhyme, I breathe in the mud,
the dust, those that graze or slither or pounce that punctuate the land and water.
I inhale the poetry of the people, the billions of them, children crying like winds tunnels,
the homeless smell forgotten, the hungry reek of food thrown in the dumpster
outside the big stores, the brave treading their passions smell like fire, cowards hiding
in the shadows of mistrust and fear are the stench of hateful hearts, the giving are the
aroma of mother baking bread, a father teaching his daughter to ride a bicycle, a stranger
offering you their seat. The most beautiful is the inhalation of love, which like the breath is free.
The earth is weighed by this priceless feeling that cannot be vaulted in a safe
nor can it be sold for a crown, like the cover of air, that I breathe in and out every day,
unfailingly, like my life depended on it. Almost 8 billion other souls tend to agree
as they float on air or on love and they may not understand the difference
until the lungs fill with water or the heart splinters like broken glass.
Every day is one filled with gratitude for the simplest pleasures of life. One is not short of breath until facing a respiratory illness of some sort, COVID has been a lesson in this. Yet, we think very little of polluting the atmosphere or soiling our planet. Perhaps it is because like the air, we don’t respect our capacity to love one another and like the air, love too is not felt except in it’s parsimony or in it’s absence. Humans need a great deal more humanity than the petty survival games we play, that again mean very little, until something that we take for granted, goes missing.