And then I breathe…

What am I to do with this
sharp this hard gift this lack
of time – edge of knife limning
me as I strain to discern
which pressing possibility
decidedly speaks
my name.

Some days, I
step back and ponder my
choices, my being chosen. I see me,
for a time, as a haggard, ragged man
– not always so aware
of my surroundings
as I wish
I were.

But then and now, robin
sings me awake his
head cocked his
fluttered wings wetting in bath and
I see my life, I see my eyes
and then I breathe…

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12 thoughts on “And then I breathe…

  1. Leah Mueller says:

    Beautiful and here I am at the opposite end of that spectrum, retired for a week- nothing really requiring my attention and I notice everything. The sky especially with it’s changing moods. The wind, the storms both inner and external.

  2. diannegray says:

    Beautiful, Allen 🙂

  3. shoreacres says:

    Sometimes, I fuss at myself over certain choices I’ve made along the way: particularly, those that mean i’m still working, and not at all secure financially. Then, I think of what those choices have also made possible: travel and sailing while I still was physically able, being able to care for and keep my mother in her own home until her death at 93, and, perhaps most importantly, having more time than friends and acquaintances to “waste time” — that is, to roam around, to think, to just look at the world.

    Sometimes, I feel a little guilty — with so much space in my life, I ought to be Doing Something Important. Then I remember what someone said about the lilies of the field, and do a little breathing of my own.

    Your poem’s brought back a hymn from my Methodist childhood. Such simplicity — there’s that word, again!

    • agjorgenson says:

      “…one will, to do and to endure.” Yes that is simplicity in a nutshell, and it seems to me that a path on or in that direction (and really both, I think) is wisdom.

      The problem with Doing Something Important is that it is never enough and so I’m glad you are able to enjoy the space, and celebrate those opportunities it has given you.

  4. A wonderful process you take us through. I love the concrete imagery of the robin you close with, and yes…it is at the end I finally remember to breathe!

    • agjorgenson says:

      Thanks. it certainly is my experience that it is usually something very concrete that give me perspective, and a new start. I guess that is why learning to look is the most important lesson in the art of life.

  5. dianerivers says:

    I guess we all — if we are wise — will step back and ponder our choices and our being chosen. Hopefully, it will lead to a sharpened sensitivity to the small and seemingly simple. Love your way with words ~

  6. thank you Allen, for the reminder of how poetry opens up space, internally and externally, to live into

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