In the doldrums,
fog obscures sight
in every direction,
my hands empty.
Breathing (yes, I am
breathing), I place
my hands on the rise
and fall of each
inhale and exhale.
I move, just a little,
lifted by breath,
as wind lifts
the bird. Imagine,
clear blue sky!
I am safe
in the rhythm
of my own life.
The endless sky
meets me, breath
for breath, until
the fog passes,
and my hands
are full of sail.
Amada Reza
December 4, 2009