This is one of those “I’m not quite sure what this is” pieces of writing. Anyone else do those? It’s been lying around among my drafts for a while, but after a bit of twiddling and paring away I think this is as far as I can go for now. It came, obviously, from a time when I was having a bit of a word with myself about being less afraid to take chances (which is partly what this whole blog business is for me), and from feeling for people I had met who had boxed themselves in with fear.
How many breaths do I take each day?
And how many days have been mine to live?
This is a mere calculation of averages, a simple multiplication.
But how many breaths, then, have I withheld?
How many times did I inhale, not daring to breathe out into that next scary moment?
How many times did I press my own pause button, stop moving forwards?
I’m holding my breath now, chest bursting, lungs straining.
Where do I dare go from here?
Forwards, into possibility beyond today?
Forwards, into danger beyond my courage?
We can’t reclaim yesterday’s breath
This is how we live, one breath at a time
Copyright © Vicky Allen 2017