Kairos Moment December 7, 2014

 

Sacred Breath

 

This is our sacred stopping place, time between the last thing and the next

Now there is time to reflect, to listen to sit still, to imagine

And to breathe, there is always breathing

 

I’ve been thinking of you

A week has passed since we were all here together

And we’ve been where we’ve been and seen what we’ve seen

And we’ve done all those thing while the minutes ticked by

And we were breathing, always breathing

 

So many things happen in an hour and a day and week

Maybe you chose words to say to your daughter

in a way that made things easier

Maybe you found an old letter stuck in a drawer that made you sad.

Maybe you made a great presentation at work

Or maybe you were late again for school and missed a deadline

Maybe you decided to ignore a call that popped up on your phone

Maybe all those things, maybe none of them, I don’t know

But breathing, there was always breathing

 

Maybe at the museum you saw the docent standing still and silent

walled in by images and philosophies from other worlds

their paint and stone transported and surviving these hundreds of years

and the docent stood there silent

But breathing always breathing

 

The protests and the funerals shared the same days and we wonder if a hybrid can emerge from the rebellion and the hope

Or will there be another hanging tree?

And there is breathing always breathing

Except when someone says

I can’t breathe

 

So many things as the minutes tick by

Maybe you saw your father’s hands shaking when he lifted his coffee cup and you wonder when that started

And in the other room the baby took her first steps

And the naked moon rose nearly full and hung just above the tower

And there was breathing always breathing

 

And now we are here together with all these things that we’ve seen

And all these places we’ve been and all those things we’ve done since we last sat here together

Through it all we were breathing, without effort or much thought

Sustained through it all by the rising and falling of the chest

The steady rhythm of life moving in and out of our bodies

Making us one

 

So it is right to sit here and think about our breathing

To listen to our own and to each other’s breathing

And to remember again that breath and spirit are words

From the same language bank

They both mean life, they are both gifts

Given without our asking

Distributed to all the masses

Breathing, always breathing

A sacred thing

 

— Charme Robarts

December, 2014