Pull it in, push it out;
Quiet exercise but vital;
Feels negligible but indispensable;
Automatic with no external help;
Involuntary yet routine;
It is amazing, isn’t it?
How a body no matter how bulky or petite;
Is kept alive by breath control?
That no amount of wealth on earth;
Can buy one breath of life;
That every living person;
No matter the race or social standing;
Is kept alive by priceless yet free breath?
When one draws his last breath;
The body of the prince and the pauper;
Are both dumped at the morgue;
Money can afford a decent burial;
Coffin and tombstone;
But six feet down is where all are placed;
And dust we will all return to;
Lifeless bodies may be preserved;
With all precious oils one might find;
But it doesn’t make them any less corpses;
Because the bottom line is;
They have no breath.
How I wish people would realize;
How vain it is to assume;
That they are better than others;
Because of what they put on;
Or what they earn;
Forgetting that what keeps them alive;
Is that one thing that they can’t afford to buy;
That a living pauper has more to be grateful for;
Than a dead king;
Be grateful for every breath you draw in;
And be relieved when you draw it out;
Don’t devalue yourself as worthless;
Because life has treated you harshly;
Someone is praying earnestly at this moment;
For a loved one to breathe on a hospital bed;
So he wouldn’t be unplugged;
You have it in abundance;
And you use it effortlessly;
Show God how grateful you are;
For the gift of the breath of life;
And do something with it;
And when you finally draw in your last breath;
Your soul will testify;
That your life was well-lived.
© Josephine Amoako 2016
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