Selah (Poem)

God, my heart is pounding
against my ribs
like a train set to derail 
off the tr-tr-tr-tracks.
Am I sick?
Am I dying?
Am I breathing?
I know I’m breathing
‘cuz my respiration 
and my perspiration 
are keeping time with the 
thump-thump-thump of a heart 
that may never know another Easter.
Still, 
  I walk and listen, 
    listen and create, 
      create and write, 
        write and breathe,
          breathe and be.
Selah

(inhale)

Selah

(exhale)

Selah
Be
still 
and 
let 
your 
words 
be 
few.
Know that
you are 
never alone.
I am 
in the howling wind
and the weeping willow.
God laments,
too.

Poem and photo of Olympic National Park both by Anton Flores-Maisonet.

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