Where did my breath go when I held it so long in the silence, when I was stunned by exquisite suffering, marveling at all the colors of pain? When I was so frozen that I could almost touch the crystalline void that seems to beckon to fingertips with shimmering darkness when we so desperately yearn for peace? Where did my breath go after it proved its existence in the form of a ghost in the chill of Winter air, when I thought it left me for good, and a spirit had come to carry me home? Where was my breath after the subtlest beauty unfolded only when I was perfectly still, lying on the floor, watching patterns of light dance on the ceiling at angles only available when you’re on your back, unable to move, in the season of the sun arguing with the moon over shining territory? In the half-light of my heart, when I could so easily relinquish my faint little glimmer to give the sun more time to warm the earth, my breath returns with a hint of Spring for my lungs. For she had been with the wind, and she learned that no matter how still and quiet the world becomes, something is always moving, stirring in the places we can’t see or taste or feel: a spark of warmth infused with the magic of possibility, making itself ready for the inevitable moment when we remember to breathe. © 2023, Sheya Forest
Inevitable Return: a poem for Imbolc
Acceptance, Adversity, Biology, Cycles, depression, freeverse, Grief and Loss, nature, New Beginnings, Overcoming, Poetry, Self Help, Sky, spring, surrender, The Void, Transition, wind, winter
I wrote my first story when I was a wee girl of three, followed by my first poem when I was eight. I’ve been writing ever since as a way to cope with life. This practice evolved with learning in both structured settings and through the practice, itself. In my own healing crisis, I found a process I affectionately refer to as Poetic Alchemy. Now on the journey of getting my life back, I do this not only for myself but for you.