inhaling and exhaling

ah, a quiet class room day. time to think. space to breathe. breathe, breathe.
i love the word breathe.
it looks how it sounds (eeeeeeattttthhhheeeeee),
sounds how it looks. saying it is the action itself.
and breath as well, because it is curtailed
by itself: just one burst of air.
but i like breathe better because it is the kind of inhalation and exhalation i want to do.
a breath deep enough to last over all those consonants and all those vowels.
a breath that makes your whole self rise as you are filled,
then you deflate, fall, relax as you release it
and your muscles unclench
and you feel that you can start to discover the full movement of your limbs
and that you should probably get up and dance and enjoy your rebirth before
everything seizes up again.

i dont feel like myself these days. i feel more like a hollow shell
wearing the name-tag "Laura."
i dont feel joy in a yarn beautifully dyed, fantastic words like recarciate,
the feel of clean sheets or the aroma of strong coffee (with milk).
i only inhale and exhale in breaths, one abrupt gasp after another
like a fish out of water or an old train
trying to get up a hill.