Sunshine in my spine

An inhale lifts me up and the

exhale roots me down.

So that my head is in the clouds

but my feet are planted firmly on the ground.

Inhale, rise.

Idealism,

or perhaps just

an idea

for how things could be.

A way of living that has yet

to be realized.

My heart it overflows

To feel such sunshine in my spine.

But the ground beneath my toes

reminds me of reality as the

lifting and the

falling try to balance out.

Exhale, fold.

Fill each inhale, rise,

with intention.

Push breath into those corners that

no one

wants to claim because they're

Dark.

Foreign.

Ugly.

Because acknowledging that they're there means

you have to claim responsibility for

inaction.

Exhale, fold.

Daily horrors that start lose their shock.

Truly swallowing the

full

magnitude would

choke the breath off altogether.

Inhale, rise.

It is burning

They are broken

We are

breathless.

My inhales and my exhales

tug at one another and in the end

they leave me

breathless.

Exhale, fold.

I find myself in flux.

Caught between elation and despair

until all that is left is

a pause.

That silence in between

the in and

out.

The momentary interlude that screams for all to hear:

we have our bodies on the line,

our daily bread

our every breath.

Our very being.

Inhale, rise.

The collective action of a people

breathing and being and beating

together

tells us anything is possible.

As one we are unstoppable.

Exhale, bend, back down to the earth,

plant us firmly on the ground.

And now,

inhale

together,

we rise.