Hope

I carry breath like it’s fragile glass,
Held close, careful, never too fast.
Each inhale a quiet fight,
Each exhale proof I’m still in the light.
They don’t always see it on the outside,
The way my chest feels tight inside,
The way my heart works overtime,
Just to keep me in this life of mine.
Some days feel heavy, thick like air,
Like hope itself isn’t always there.
But still I rise, I still stand tall,
Even when it feels like I might fall.
Because hope… it whispers, soft but strong,
“You’ve made it through this far, hold on.”
It lives in moments, small and true—
In every breath that carries me through.
Pulmonary hypertension may shape my days,
But it won’t take all of my ways.
I am more than lungs that struggle to cope,
I am strength, I am courage… I am hope.
And even on nights when I feel unsure,
When nothing feels steady or secure,
I remind myself—this fight is mine,
And I am still here… still breathing… still trying