It is winter, freezing cold outside.
I am inside, tucked away in a comfy bed
not feeling well today.
Something is not right in my chest.
Grandma rubs me with medicine.
Then she covers my chest with Kleenex.
The fumes go right to my sinuses.
She says they will help me breathe better.
To breathe is to live.
To live is to breathe.
God is breath.
And so I wait for the stinky fumes
to bring life to my listless body
as I let go into God.
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