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Breath let Go

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Below is the poem entitled Breath let Go which was written by poet Samir Georges. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Breath let Go

The earth shudders and the dust of a thousand years
lifts into the sky like a blanket thrown up in exultation
and beneath this blanket plates grind together
in sudden need
A craving to bring dried and edged flesh
with the moisture of the oceans above
together once more
and cry out in the joy of ecstasy to release their pressure
	And be at once reconciled

And the world let’s out its breath,
gives up what is most sacred to it
in reverence of this Moment:

And I dare say this moment is mine,
to the child that toiled the fields
hoe in hand and the patterns in the soil
the patterns in the soul through which water poured
and escaped in pores like water through a parched man’s fingers
and patterns fled this farm 
Leaving a parched man lamenting the presence of fingers
in times of thirst,

And to the child toiling
           in the fields 
the pattern is in the pitch of his shoulders
and the pounding of the sun
the pattern that should never seep
through unseen holes

but it seeps
down his back and across his fingers
upon his hoe it dribbles down and finds the escape
of patterns long lost
and the sweat of his toil
slips through the gaps in his soil
and the heaving of his shoulders
is lost with the patterns,	

So this old farmer he does not tread his fields,
sheltered behind wood and warmth of fire
he huddles in his world of four walls
and dares not the fields outside
Where await the failures
of his toil,
and when the earth shuddered
in joy of this moment
Knowing in its wisdom all that was to be known
the earth shudders and the dust of not so many years
It lifts into the sky like a blanket thrown up in exultation

And beneath it all

Sees the farmer

The pattern of his toil

And lo and behold
It was not wasted
But a hands width beneath
The soil that caked his world
And by his own hand
Hidden as it were
The patterns of his toil
And the story that is told
Bittersweet
In the exultation of a breath
Let go.

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