45 of 151

by Cynthia Harlan

Love, birth and breathing.

He holds my hand and tells me to focus on my breathing.
Slowly, deeply each of our chests rise in perfect rhythm.
The waves of pain overtake me once again.
He is there, my one true love, just breathing beside me.

Time has past the waves of pain are almost unbearable now.
Things have changed the rhythm of our breathing has taken on an urgency
"Who,who,who,who," pant dear, pant dear I hear him say.

He and I together have caught our breath in momentary silence.
Urgently we wait together to hear the sound of breathing in the room.
Suddenly the silence is broken when we hear our newborn - breathing.

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Poetry: Breathing

by Cynthia Harlan

Poetry: Breathing

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