by Euridice Mendes


It's the air I breathe that makes me hopeless
It's the air I breathe that makes me motionless

Gasp, wheeze, slow down,
It's springtime again
Pollen, mites, cold air
Here we are again.

Narrow passages don't let me breathe and
Swollen tubes prevent the air going through
A wave of cold air arises the tiniest little hairs on my back
And I say to myself "Don't panic"; just make your own way back.

I feel scared and tired, but I know that as soon as I pass the gates,
On the other side of the big red door, there would lie my salvation.

Tiny steps, racing heart, the bloody walkway never seemed so grand,
Water cascades in front of my eyes diminish my vision

Finally I can see, my companion waiting for me,
That little thing would give me my life back; it would make me free

Puff, hold, inhale
Puff, hold, inhale
Oh how I would love to live in exhale

I can breathe, slowly I can breathe
Take it easy, I say, take in the breeze

I wish I could fly, I wish I was a free bird; happy and free, flying away
I wish I could venture the high and low tides of this tormentuous sea that is my life
I wish I could fly
I wish someone would give me a can of Red Bull


I wish I could fly
I know I can do it with Ventolin (inhaler)

Euridice Mendes


I began writing thinking this will be easy. I will just make up a story. However, as the poem grew, I found myself expressing real feelings, and wondering how the patient would feel if they were having a real asthma attack. I think I created a good piece of creative writing, even though the poem does not rhyme. It was great fun!

Euridice Mendes