Just breathe
By S. B.
Incarcerated people 
Prison Poetry 
Aug 16, 2008 
The air vent’s constant droning taints the night
while cell to cell, each prisoner stokes the flow.
Like caustic oil, their fury floods my cell,
and in my shrinking space, I inhale
the anguish of my brothers, their stinging pins
arousing me raw from my soul’s slumber.
Their braided rage rends my waxen wings—
no sky, no ground, no bearing can I find.
From refuge torn, my weighty heart concedes
its place of gravity for me alone
where ‘neath confusion, unity abides
to quell the muddy sorrows of the world.
My breath transforms, black smoke to milky light,
as I send out this unassuming gift.
Like honeysuckle through a summer screen,
this scent of hope journeys down the duct
to permeate throughout this concrete exile
and then cascade across the distant hills.
Outside as from a dream, the eastern sun
paints her hues on all that she can see.
Awake at last, people cease their drill
and in their spaces offer their own breath
while Nature, too, celebrates these waves
and fields of grass bow to the wind and dance.
Incarcerated people
Many incarcerated people from all over the United States correspond with Venerable Thubten Chodron and monastics from Sravasti Abbey. They offer great insights into how they are applying the Dharma and striving to be of benefit to themselves and others in even the most difficult of situations.
