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