Pull it in, push it out;        

Quiet exercise but vital;

Feels negligible but indispensable;

Automatic with no external help;

Involuntary yet routine;


It is amazing, isn’t it?

How a body no matter how bulky or petite;

Is kept alive by breath control?

That no amount of wealth on earth;

Can buy one breath of life;

That every living person;

No matter the race or social standing;

Is kept alive by priceless yet free breath?


When one draws his last breath;

The body of the prince and the pauper;

Are both dumped at the morgue;

Money can afford a decent burial;

Coffin and tombstone;

But six feet down is where all are placed;

And dust we will all return to;


Lifeless bodies may be preserved;

With all precious oils one might find;

But it doesn’t make them any less corpses;

Because the bottom line is;

They have no breath.


How I wish people would realize;

How vain it is to assume;

That they are better than others;

Because of what they put on;

Or what they earn;

Forgetting that what keeps them alive;

Is that one thing that they can’t afford to buy;

That a living pauper has more to be grateful for;

Than a dead king;


Be grateful for every breath you draw in;

And be relieved when you draw it out;

Don’t devalue yourself as worthless;

Because life has treated you harshly;

Someone is praying earnestly at this moment;

For a loved one to breathe on a hospital bed;

So he wouldn’t be unplugged;

You have it in abundance;

And you use it effortlessly;

Show God how grateful you are;

For the gift of the breath of life;

And do something with it;

And when you finally draw in your last breath;

Your soul will testify;

That your life was well-lived.


© Josephine Amoako 2016




Published by Josephine