I never knew
that the simplest right—
to breathe—
was never mine to choose.
Others decide,
whether my lungs drink
the clean whisper of forests,
or choke on
the ash of their habits.
They claim the sky,
the air,
the very breath between us,
as if it belonged
only to them.
But my chest remembers
what freedom is—
fresh air,
a quiet wind,
the smoke-free dawn
that no hand
should ever steal.