In-Hale-Ex

You would think breath would be pretty basic

in the pantheon of in-alien-

able human rights,

but it’s not

a given.

At least no one

was hung at dawn today,

but I heard someone gasp—no—maybe—

I doubt, therefore I am a citizen of the United

States of—

                   You know—this poem would

be completely different if—

keep breathing—

if I hadn’t read

highlights of the U.S.

Senate Select

Committee

on

torture

yesterday.

But I needed

to be educated

to our brutality—ours—

though I never agreed to it as a tactic

for police or military or secret service or parents

or animal trainer.  I think. I. did. not. agree. 

I breathe regularly, intersperse

breath signs in music

I write, intend

to link to all

humanity

through

this rhythm,

note that the rising

and falling—expansion

and contraction—is the same

in animals, in plants, in the earth’s

aliveness: Breath is basic, is prayer, is touch—

gentler than choke holds and marching,

gentler than thinking.  Gently.

For my prompt at 

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Human Rights (Day)

Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast