Sometimes my body forgets how to breathe,
Not my mind, no, my mind shouts instructions
Down to my bronchus or through the hearts aorta,
Incomprehensible, nonsensical instructions
That can only serve to increase my hysteria.
When this happens I write.
Subject doesn’t matter, only the rhythm.
Simple, structural patterns to a poem –
Easy beats for the lungs and heart to follow.
Writing has taught me many things –
Most importantly, how to breathe and
In turn, create poetry from my panic.
Both writing and breathing are about
Slowing down and concentrating,
And the relaxation of mind and body.