• advent journal: breathing lessons

    by  • December 13, 2016 • advent journal, love, poetry • 5 Comments

    The book I started on my ride to New York this morning was Unpacking the Boxes: A Memoir of a Life in Poetry by Donald Hall. A couple of pages in, I found this sentence:

    Their house was always dark: it felt like held breath. (5)

    The sentence stayed with me. When I sat down to write, here is where it took me.

    breathing lessons

    I was on the train for
    an hour and a half before
    before the wisps of sunrise
    this morning; tomorrow
    it will even take longer—
    the night holds its breath
    as long as it can before
    it exhales into daylight,
    turning the clouds into
    tongues of fire fueled by
    the fresh air of a new day.
    I watched them fly by and
    I heard Ginger’s words of
    invitation, repeated on
    the cusp of worship each
    Sunday: breathe in the
    breath of God; breathe
    out the love of God . . .
    so I did—I breathed and
    hoped my lungs would
    fill up with fiery clouds.



    Blogging since December 2005


    5 Responses to advent journal: breathing lessons

    1. Ann Hammon
      December 13, 2016 at 9:02 pm

      Oh. My.

    2. Deb Ruotolo
      December 14, 2016 at 7:04 am

      “breathing” this morning on Broad Street. (Thank you Milton)

    3. Claud
      December 14, 2016 at 8:09 am

      “Breathing” this morning in downtown Durham.

    4. Martha Twaddell
      December 14, 2016 at 9:03 am

      Beautiful. Again.

    5. noralyn carpenter
      December 14, 2016 at 11:18 am

      I’m with Ann Hammon. OH.MY.

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