The Will to Breathe

The Will to Breathe

Relief removes a dreaded weight

That you have borne in pain.

Some welcome news arrives (at last),

And you can breathe again.

The “breathing” that you’ve done the while

You’ve waited for the news

Resembled more an agony,

A blackly purple bruise.

Or this: You’ve breathed through fabric that’s

Been folded till it’s thick,

So every breath’s required a sort

Of complex magic trick.

But then relief. The bruise is healed.

So easily you breathe.

But Time, you know—you really know—

Exists but to deceive.

And soon, so soon, the bruise returns,

And breath requires the will

To write your hopes so myriad

With only ink and quill.

So surprised at the patina

Glowing near my hot farina.

Shakespeare Couplet:  Romeo and Juliet

“’Tis but thy name that is my enemy,”

She says, not knowing he can hear—and see. (2.2)