The wind not of air

by justme

‘Go away oh wind so cold, your stabbing knives
Of force are not welcome here’
‘Who could create such a vile and unwanted thing?’
Oxygen, my food, so very near.
Yet, you force my breath as I gulp for life,
‘You chase it from me and distract upon my memory, when once upon a time
This man was free’
Go away that I may think, you thumping,drunken,slapping stink.


Cry not oh human upon a memory, yet forget the wind
For it held you close and tucked you neath the ancient heavenly stars
It never once asked, if you have ever sinned
It’s thundering words came like showers
Shivering through the fields and rivers, trees and flowers

For I , I am the wind, I hold the memory of yesteryear
And then, and now
Feel my touch of love, feel my warmth chase away and steer
Around your fingers, i wrap and tangle and show you how
The dream of memory is always near,
And yet
I hold also the promises of tomorrow, without your fear.

For I am the wind that started there and here
Though I be turbulent, tumultuous and wild
Also can I be caressingly near
Gentle and innocent
Holding the emptiness and potentiality of any mothers child.

Close your eyes and touch my emptiness
That you may feel my fullness and allow me,
to  carry you
My source, my friend, my forever master
Let go and let me sway and swing you homeward,
Now and,
Ever faster.

And a wind not of air but of spirit passed through me
The veil it dropped the clouds they cleared
The road raised up, the forests cheered
It lifted me high so I could see.
Perfect stillness
This man is free.

Credits: Poem © justme; Image © CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved


The Wind

By justme

Silence and stillness fills the air
The things of earth, prepare.
Expectancy the hidden chant as bombing single drops of cloud
Signals and lays the path like a blackened, darkening shroud.
Enveloping the land like an umbrella shading the sun.
Day becomes night, no escape the moment,
the wind it shall come.

Stampeding howl roars through resistant fighting trees
Which bend like the archers bow before it frees,
Yet long for a prouder straighter stance do they.
Yet like the worshipped before their idol, they humbly pray,
in respect of a greater, more powerful one,
than they.

Shivering, flickering leaves rattle and quiver in it’s ferocious wake.
Their tiny stems grip their stronger brother branch, and quake.
He shudders, whips and bends but holds firm the master trunk.
Who’s very sturdiness and resistance, could leave them all defunct.

Some leaves succumb the battering remorseless thrash
and go hurtling and swirling and diving to finally, inevitably, crash
and await tomorrow a rotting silent death.
In rumps and stench of their withering, soggy, brothers breath,
Tempting the sliming worms to draw them to a darkened eerie place, far from the elevated godly heights where they danced a  happy song,
with grace.

Others move and twist and turn upon the winds request
They fight that the sun tomorrow may shine once again and heat their gorging face, they fight that they may live, to be their best.
They fight so they might give.
It is a futile fight,
The fight to live.

For all shall take and all shall give, as all shall return that which has been taken, that they might live.
And to the earth, the ground, the dirt, shall all things be drawn,
To wait a moments breath,
until  the moment of a new day, a brighter,
better dawn
When all things shall once more,

live again.

Credits: Poem © justme; Image © Catrinphoto

…and the wind still blows