Woe is the place where breath isn’t free —
underwater, metaphorically or literally.
A cement-shoe walk through the pond,
looking up to the blurred and shimmering light
that you can’t reach —
with an intense urge to suck air,
air that isn’t there.
An attempted breath would be an act of suicide —
no more satisfying than any act of suicide —
but a good deal more painful than most.
the !n(tro)verted yogi 
You capture the trapped feeling so well here.
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Thanks
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Amazing first line, and imagery of anguish. Powerful.
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Thank you
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