when attempting to listen to your heart,
the doctors hesitate before asking to take a deep breath.
in the event of an anxiety attack,
your friend holds you and makes you
try other ways to calm down than breathing in and out.
like naming 5 things you can see around you.
“an inhaler.
a coffee stained coaster.
a polka dotted tie that you got as a farewell present
referencing an inside joke that you can’t remember.
an N95 mask.
a reusable shopping bag.”
when taking a walk, you accept the tradeoff;
a clear head for a clear lung.
as the number crosses 400,
you finally decide to start listening to your wellness guru neighbour
about the effects of meditation
and start counting your breath.
less to be present, more to be alive.
and sometimes for the strength to keep hoping
that life will fall back into place.
but you keep in mind,
when waiting on a miracle,
hold your breath.
