The opening line in Frederick Joseph's poem catches my attention, my heart and my conscience.
"I learned to breathe in my grandmother’s kitchen despite life sitting on my chest."
And, he has me wondering -- in my growing up -- where did I learn to breathe? And, in my life now, where do I learn to breathe? I have memories of my Mom teaching me to cook and bake in what was clearly her domain, the kitchen. And, in the midst of her losing her eyesight when I was in fifth grade, she continued to teach me to cook, to bake and how to help her in those tasks. Mom was teaching me much more than how to cook and bake. She was teaching me how to live in the midst of adversity and changes. Most importantly, she taught me how to see with one's heart.
This line stayed with me: “Luxury coaxed from the discarded.” Sometimes love isn’t found in having more, but in the quiet imagination that refuses to let what seems ordinary lose its dignity. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful poem.
Years ago I went to a traditional osteopath. When she put her hands on my body she softly said, “You have only been breathing out of one lung. You have been holding your breath your whole life.” And she was right. Growing up, I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I am so grateful that I breathe more deeply now.
The opening line in Frederick Joseph's poem catches my attention, my heart and my conscience.
"I learned to breathe in my grandmother’s kitchen despite life sitting on my chest."
And, he has me wondering -- in my growing up -- where did I learn to breathe? And, in my life now, where do I learn to breathe? I have memories of my Mom teaching me to cook and bake in what was clearly her domain, the kitchen. And, in the midst of her losing her eyesight when I was in fifth grade, she continued to teach me to cook, to bake and how to help her in those tasks. Mom was teaching me much more than how to cook and bake. She was teaching me how to live in the midst of adversity and changes. Most importantly, she taught me how to see with one's heart.
This line stayed with me: “Luxury coaxed from the discarded.” Sometimes love isn’t found in having more, but in the quiet imagination that refuses to let what seems ordinary lose its dignity. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful poem.
Beautifully said! Antonio, 🙏🏻
Years ago I went to a traditional osteopath. When she put her hands on my body she softly said, “You have only been breathing out of one lung. You have been holding your breath your whole life.” And she was right. Growing up, I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I am so grateful that I breathe more deeply now.
Unwanted, on sale…
depleted, discarded drinks.
Whirred into wonder.