Breathe Poem by Iris Blue

In grass the cows have not yet found
she nests, cross legged in a yogic pose
inhaling the exile circumstance imposed
exhaling the breadth of this bittersweet life
while waiting for night
to fall from a sky
far bigger than any she’s known.

A taffeta ridge of needling pines
tatters the hem of a tie-dyed sky
where another new moon
wanes the time that divides
as the back of day greets front of night.

Mourning the ones her heart never left
she’s held in the grains of twilight’s grip
clinging to all she can no longer reach
like the fence lines that contour this abstract relief

of shelf shifting slips now saddled by shade
skid sites and scrub and limbs sawn and shaved
underground streams and the echoes of names
that resound round the hills
connecting the brave

She rises, now balanced, stretching up into tree,
arms branch, she stands tall,

and continues to breathe...