Three Deep Breaths

Three deep breaths, palms together, Here in her room, or elsewhere, she may Rise and take. A habit she has formed, Even as most of her ideas, ideals,

Even her so cherished findings, hard found, Deducted, inducted, reasoned, debated, polished, Even those most like faith, as taught her, Even those most like science, measured, observed,

Peeled one by one: a human desert, she. By three deep breaths, she centers somehow: how? Reality itself a question she's no longer asking, Eating and sleeping themselves provisional.

All she bothers to call caring is now to listen To breath, room sounds, outside sounds, to Her friends, their worries unpacked, their voices Spending both hope and pain. She bows.