FAITH, STILL.

Choked by my reality,
I have been unresponsive
to the words that give me spirit.
Will is a thriving ingredient
in the the recipe of my essence,
and my will has died.
Gone through enough
for more than one lifetime,
having fought as hard as
an entire army,
I laid here,
swollen and choked
unable to inhale nor exhale.
In a state of unending duress,
I withdrew into myself
cradling my broken heart
that refused to acknowledge
its own existence
let alone that of anything else
and was repulsed by the reality
of its actuality.
I endured my limbotic
state of being.
At last, my breath has arrived
blooming into a relieving exhale.
And I realize that
with each inhale and exhale
continuously,
I am, in essence
persevering.
As long as that is my reality
I have faith, still.