Lungs

She’s like the wind.

She holds sacred spaces together and then unfolds to reveal a scent or cadence.

She unfurls herself and becomes that which is unknown, unseen.

She is the embodiment of everything I wish I could be.

Her heart holds stadiums of believers

And calmly embraces the needs of the few.

She hoards roses in her veins and lets gardenias scale her entire body.

She is the epitome of everything I desire to be.

I hold her hand tightly and wish for neverland to cease.

I cry at the thought of her departure and wish for the promise of longevity.

How can I make her stay, I wonder. How can I get her to understand?

She is all that I never want to leave.

To hold her with hands like stone and to comfort a soul that doesn’t require chains

Creates a scaffold of everything that contains a broken heart.

To be the wind is to wish for her to love freely and be open hearted

And that is everything that I was never taught to be.

I love her for her mystical clouds and her challenging skies

And I adore the way that she makes animals sing.

She is the canary, the dove, the swan, and the goose

And she is also the very Earth that I’ve set my soul to.

I wish for nothing else but to love and be loved by this wind,

To be cherished and adored by the very being that graces my lungs every day.

I wish for nothing else, even on our last days on Earth.

I will wait in the beyond to once again feel her breath of life.