circular breathing
there are only moments now
when illness is forgotten,
when the woman you once were
returns to your skin
and a trick of imagination
sees you sprint to the corner
in time for the light,
hike the trail up Cowles mountain.
she is the phantom
this is your grief
this siren in the shadows
teasing dreams of muscles
warm and limber,
stretching the truth of expectation;
twisted recompense
late spring.
only she knows
how rest comes
when sleep will not
how you follow your breath,
its circular motion
draw stillness
from the hummingbird’s flight
how you stumble toward grace
offer prayers give thanks
wait for moments rich
with forgetting
--Cheryl Latif