Holding My Breath

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

I keep looking
for the breathing holes
beneath this thick sea ice,

a place where
I can propel
up towards the light,
grasping for a breath of air
that smells like earth
and soil and green things.

I keep looking
for that rare space
because I cannot hold
my breath much longer.

There. Over there
I see some light
through honey-colored ice.

5 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

5 responses to “Holding My Breath

  1. May your seeking bear fruit, Ethel.

  2. Exquisite and elegant….and one I resonate with. Beautiful, Ethel.

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