I’ve known how to breathe all my life,
at least that’s what I’ve been told.
No one taught me
no one showed me how
I just opened my mouth and
If I never had to learn how to live
why does it sometimes feel
so goddamn hard to fill my lungs
and let go of everything
like I’ve been born to do?
Why did no one tell me about the earth
and how it lives too,
about how when I press my ear to the dirt
I can hear it wheezing and
crying all at once?
Someone once told me that,
someone once said that the Earth is alive
and it inhales children’s footsteps
and exhales the trees whispers
and sighs the soft sounds of love.
Someone once told me that.
Now that they’re gone it’s as if
the trembling of the ground has
ceased and my lungs suddenly
and everything that I’ve known
and now, it’s a struggle to breathe.
As a child I didn’t know how hard my lungs worked
I didn’t know what they had to