The Breath of Life

The Breath of Life

 

Arise my soul and face your fears.

You cling to life with passion dear.

I am your vessel that I be,

The I in me that would be free.

 

And as I journey, full of strife,

I long for peace, I lust for life.

But peace to me goes still wanted,

My soul's unrest keeps me haunted.

 

Come then death, life's nether half,

You're but a stop on life's short path.

Death grant to me a single breath,

Alas the one that marks my death.

 

Yet this same breath is the sacred air

That wakes my soul to let me bear

The expectation I've been longing,

My journey's end, my Easter morning.

 

This is the first poem I have written since I wrote a sonnet to my high school sweetheart in spring of 1963. The rust is evident. Today is the first full day of autumn. It denotes the beginning of harvest time. It is time of transition for us all. Our days now move from mostly day to mostly night. The glorious plants and flowers we enjoyed in spring and summer, now must die. But it is through their death that we are nourished. We have grain and fruits to eat and even the plants themselves need this dying to seeds in order to sprout again next spring thus renewing the cycle of living.

 

At first no one is comfortable "knocking on heaven's door." But it took a glimpse of death, a touch of dying to give me a fuller appreciation of life and all its beauty. We are all going to die. My goal is not to let the fear of death ruin my joy for life. I will try to embrace the need for death to give nourishment and the promise of new life and use that message so evident in God's nature to continue to reveal the hidden glories of living.