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Breathing Room has lots in store
for the year. If you would like to share your personal
stories, news items or poetry with us, please contact:
us at: info at thebreathingroom.org.
Stories, Poems
and opinions of participants are their own, and not necessarily
those of the Breathing Room organization.
Please visit
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community online.
Breathing Room
facilitates candid and open
communication between adults with Cystic Fibrosis,
supports the development of a community of adults with CF
and provides education and insight for families, caregivers,
and medical professionals who impact our lives.
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Dear God
You
who covets my breath,
who shuffles my life like a black and red deck
in your gashed palm,
whose blood runs like a creek through your life line,
whose hands are as ugly and as scary as mine,
tell me the one
about the time you made me:
how you played Picasso and created me
disarranged.
How you were like a child planning a fun collage;
snipping the lungs, pasting them in,
humming your hymn as you worked;
and the casting of the ribs:
how you designed such a delicate crib
to keep unbroken
when the coughs come banging like
shots.
God,
that things are undying fascinates me.
At times I attach myself to their infinity:
the bed, the kitchen table,
bread and old tea mugs,
the cozy middle between my mother and father.
Where movement isn't, there seems such an ordered,
still life.
In the mirror, where I do go on,
the inaccuracy is traced exactly:
a reflection in a spoon, an artificial masterpiece,
a beautiful woman in the wrong light.
Now let me play child and wonder all night,
how come?
Running my hand a hundred times over
the body, my separate piece,
I see the disease is multiplied.
I see the disease is reflected
over and over...
Forgive me, Father,
But You asphyxiate my creed.
You have taught the infection to breed,
You have placed that luckless card
at the top of the deck.
By Janice Bevilacqua
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