Breathing

 Breathing

Who thinks of it,
That tide of air,
In. . . Out

That unassuming nothingness
So rich with life
Casually drawn in,
Feeding blood, muscle, brain
life stuff transformed,
Transported
Beneath
The still surface of skin,

Only when
There is a struggle,
A coughing spasm,
A swallow of water, gone down wrong
A limit to the supply
Are we made
Breathlessly aware
Of mechanics
Complex and taken for granted

Forced
To slow it down,
Think about each breath,
Draw it in carefully
So as not to disturb
Irritable, ticklish
Workings of alveoli and bronchioles
Ridiculous details
Learned, in science class, forgotten,
Re learned now,
Truly

When we find the balance of breathing again,
We taste its sweetness
Lie back in the comforting,
Rocking gentle rhythm,
Warm waves of
Buoyant salt seas
Cradle of a mother's arms
Certain, steady.

Understanding at last
The focus/drift of Zen

Exploring, mapping
The world
In the moment of each drawing in,
Letting go
Of insubstantial air