Anatomy of a Room

This room has seen so much
This sun, these windows
The shutters, open or closed
As I waited these years, always waiting,
And finally in desperation
But also with hope
Began to move,
Searching with my elbows,
My toes,
For freedom in my ribs.

This room has heard my lectures
About breath and the power of
Experimenting with pitch, timbre,
Love, loss.
This room has seen me
Brace myself for more.

I teach breathing
I hold my breath
I dance breath
My heart beats.

It’s all on the table now –
At least, the important parts,
Ready to be dissected.

You haven’t seen what this room has seen:

The cracks in my heart
The catch of my breath
Muscling through
The mask of leadership
Teaching the heartbeat of sonnets,
DaDum, DaDum, DaDum…

I will breathe again.
The sun of these windows
Is constant each winter, each spring.
My blood
With the thaw.

But first, I am in stillness –
That pause between exhale and inhale,
Between winter and spring.

The need to speak, to move
Will arrive.
But now, I wait
In this room, in the sun,
For words to appear on that chalkboard –
I don’t have to write


Talk to me.

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