BY HOLLY CORMIER
Let me take a second to say
My lungs, I was told, would fail me each day.
Take your meds, you’ll be okay-
Well my mind ain’t okay but for that you just lay Your hands on my back, “Breathe, it’s easy.”
Peasy? Please - we know I get wheezy,
Running diseased but I’m devoted to me
Thought I ran two-point-oh, but see:
I got beyond three, beyond the words free
Sure as hell thought I’d be done by twenty
I’ll run through my grave to reach eighty-three
My thighs will ache, knees creak and plea
My mind screams too but here’s my decree:
Ignore the pain,
Your lungs will strain but there’s no chain.
My mind’s another muscle, I’m stretching a sprain. My lungs are strong now, what’s stopping my brain?