I found this on one of my new favorite websites - The Rabbit Room. If you are familiar with Andrew Peterson's music and books, you'll see why this is a place for hunkering down.
When I read this poem, I had to share it with you:
Breath
by Luci Shaw
When in the cavern darkness, the child
first opened his mouth (even before
his eyes widened to see the supple world
his lungs had breathed into being),
could he have known that breathing
trumps seeing? Did he love the way air sighs
as it brushes in and out through flesh
to sustain the tiny heart’s iambic beating,
tramping the crossroads of the brain
like donkey tracks, the blood dazzling and
invisible, the corpuscles skittering to the earlobes
and toenails? Did he have any idea it
would take all his breath to speak in stories
that would change the world?
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