It’s lonely without spirit.

As if the breath were sucked out of my body this morning,

now I’m simply “breathing”

without breath.

Without air filling my lungs

and depleting.

Without current rushing through me.

It’s lonely without spirit,

because spirit is the swell,

the swell of life force meeting physicality

saying “you’re meant to be here”

and “you are here”

and “you’re okay.”

I watched myself be born yesterday,

VHS capturing a pink blinking stare,

and small murmurs of existence.

“Baby. Baby. Baby Girl.”

They say to me, endlessly.

“Look at this baby.”

Look at this baby girl, breathe.

Original expression. Dec. 202o.