Breathing does not always come with ease.
In fact, some days I plead with my body for oxygen
But tremors run through my veins.
Instead of sweet,
Succulent air,
I am given an earthquake.
And darling, you are standing right on the fault line
Trying to hold it all together.
Our world will turn over
And over
And over,
Restless with anxiety--
Hold me tighter.
Havoc will get her eager fingers on sacred ground
And she will tear at the soil until “turmoil” is the only holy word we know.
And still, the Earth trembles, persistent as us.
Our lungs will fill with sediment
As we claw desperately to dig ourselves out of the hole that disaster dug us into.
No, breathing does not always come with ease,
When your lungs weigh heavily with dirt
But my god,
Nobody else could make it taste so good.