The Edge

The edge?     The edge is:
lie by the breath you cannot
do without; while
the breather sleeps.

Precious, subtle, that air
comes, goes, comes.
The heart propels it.     It has
its thousands of hours, but

it will not last as long
as the sun, the moon's subservient
tides. It will stop, go back
to the great air's surround.

But now, subtle, precious,
regular as tide and sun
it moves in the warm body, lifts
the chest, says yes.

Listen to it, through the night.
If you wish to know the extent
to which you are vulnerable,
only listen.

This is called the breath
of life.     But it continues
saving your life
through the dark,

since this engine that drives your joy
is unrenounceable.
Listen, listen.     Say, Love, love
breathe so, breathe so.

--Josephine Jacobsen (1908-2003), US poet laureate 1971-1973


Photo: my three children when they were small, February 2000.