Poetry

Ainsley Brigham; Poetry; Josiah Roberts; 13 November 2025 

What We Give Our Breath To

What truly can you not breathe without?

What truly is it worth it to give all your breath to?

Imagine you are a child,

Before you are candles lit and birthday cake,

You take a deep breath in and close your eyes.

Now hold it, freeze frame.

Imagine that in that moment you dive down deep into the ocean,

All the way to the sea floor where there are all these oysters and they are open,

Displaying their pearls,

Proposing to you saying, "choose me."

And now you are dreaming,

Now you are wishing.

Which is to choose between,

What to give your breath to,

What to hand over your life to,

What to die for.

Remember now, you took a deep breath,

Filled your lungs and held it,

And now you are at the bottom of a dark abyss

And you must choose a Pearl to exhale all your air into,

That it may blow up big like a floatation device,

That you may ride it back up to the surface.

But choose wisely,

For not all that glitters is gold.

Not everything in life is worth giving your breath to.

You may blow into a Pearl only to have the air escape through a crack or through a hole.

The bottom of the ocean is a sorry place to find yourself without breath

And without a way back up.

This is truly Halloween,

This is truly trick or treat,

In the darkness, when everything hollow and everything dreamed is in disguise and on display.

What is trick? And what is treat?

This is you worrying about your purpose,

What shall I spend my life on?

What will give me a good return on my breath?

What will enlarge my soul and not steal it?

What will shine in the dark and not leave me blind?

Must not a woman consider this when the man down on one knee is before her?

Displaying an oyster with a Pearl?

That black box with a diamond in the midst,

As if to say "in our section of space there shall be a bright North Star, I promise."

Is he telling the truth?

What does he put his breath into?

Tricks or treats?

What kind of Pearl is he offering?

Is it money? Status? Looks? Jealousies?

Is it a bottle?

What kind of Pearl will she settle for?

But let's return to the child with breath held and learning how to dream,

Maybe a bicycle huh?

Or a telescope.

Not just toys, but the things which represent new adventures,

New competence,

New life.

Maybe the child wishes for mom to get well or for a friend's grief to mend,

This also is new life.

This is hope, tunnels of light,

Silver linings which fortify the heart.

It is the adventure-giving and hope-giving pearls

Which fill up delightfully and unfailingly

And bring us to atmospheres of new breath

New chapters under new light.

And will you see me in new light always?

Wonders the nymph to the proposing shepherd,

There's an old poem about a shepherd who asks the nymph to come live with him

And she answers,

"If all the world and love were young, and truth is in every shepherd's tongue, these pretty pleasures make me move to live with thee and be thy love."

And so yes to your Pearl,

Your star,

Your proposal.

But only if I never grow old in your eyes

For the beauty of my body will age

But there is that within me which never ages

Which is immortal

Divine

This always see anew

Tilt your head at me like a daydreamer does a cloud

For all our days on the earth

And when night comes

Gaze at me as the dreamer gazes the stars

And connect my stars

My brightnesses in continuously evolving constellations

The way you look upon me must be the way you look upon the flames of a fire

Always emerging new and miraculous

Captivating and fantastical

Finally our dreamer breathes out his breath into that which makes them a good dreamer

Sure to always provide a new future

A hope a fresh perspective

A weapon against static

Against dogma

And against directionlessness

And finally our dreamer may give this to their beloved

I shall always behold you a new hope

As if I remove a book from the shelf

And discover you through the window of the space it left

And I do this every morning and every night

For you will always be to me my great adventure

My treat

And the Pearl I gladly give my breath to

At last the breath is given to love.

Love’s Quiet Language 

I see him in midair, 

wearing anything he pleases, 

something black and tight

something yellow like daisies.

He’s in the way 

I tenderize my cheek with my knuckles. 

He’s in the way I cannot breathe sometimes. 

Of him I dare not search. 

Of him, I always find. 

Of him, I know I may not see

until the day I die.

Time together and time apart, 

are earthly things my dear.

Time apart requires time–

and times a mortal tear.

I'll see you in the cosmos. 

This life's not very long.

I'll tell you of my adventures, 

and how I missed your song.

If to you I sound defeated, 

you've missed my tune completely. 

I've seen the angel's baby. 

It's here on Earth, they meet me. 

They speak to me of things which are hard to put in words, 

but I'll try to give you a sense 

of their lossless playful world.

These are the things that matter when I rest my head and muse: 

emerald windows wide 

wherein we dance 

where others brood,

golden moons of Morrow

making mush of weeping blues–

and pizza.