The land exhales—slow, ancient breath,
through reed and root, through frost and death.
A sigh of loam, of moss, of rain,
of seed returned to soil again.
Mountains loosen their granite lungs,
fog drifts out where dawn is sung.
Rivers hum their low refrain,
breathing sky through fields of grain.
Each stone remembers warmth of sun,
each leaf recalls the storms it’s run.
Beneath it all, the pulsing deep—
a heartbeat earth has sworn to keep.
And when we pause, and still our chest,
we feel that breath within our breast—
the quiet proof, both frail and whole:
the land exhales, and fills the soul.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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