Against the Wind

          Against the Wind

Choices pile on choices as I stand toes over the edge.
Leaning into the wind, arms outstretched,
feeling the power yet knowing its denial of what I desire,
what I dream, what I strain to hold onto

          A Memory

Etched within my mind is a dream, recurrent, so real, I
grapple with its impossibility. I’m very young and I slip outside,
alone, eager to attempt what itches in my arms and legs. The
wind is rushing round the corner of my house, a narrow hallway
between high piney hedges.

I stand, motionless, eyes closed. Picture what must be,
hold my hands outstretched to feel the gale of air pressing,
pushing me back, trying to discover me. The wind pushes
into my mind, plays with my hair, caresses my baby soft skin.
I balance on one foot, like a swan, stretching my leg behind me.

Streaming, enfolding wind grows in force.
Deep breath, let the wind capture my other leg as well.
Pressed against the wind, howling with glee, I hover,
held in place by the force of gravity,
challenging the force of a god’s breath.



          Trapped

Unable to move, yet past choices press from behind and before.
Hurry, hurry, act, reach, demand. Do it. Grab, stretch until it is
within your hands.

Hands over ears, I shut out the howling wind.

          Slammed

Hurricane hurls me back. Listen. Where in this maelstrom
is the still small voice? I beg quiet. How can I hear?
How can I choose? What can I know when I am tossed back
like a small, empty sack twirling through the air,
without substance, without my own form,
shaped by the wind that grabs and twists and presses me
into a semblance of life that resembles death.

          God’s Breath

I hold my own. I will not inhale until I feel the wind’s exhale
blowing upon me. I will not push against, frustrated, unable to turn,
unable to choose. I will not set myself against the Wind.

I will fly with Him instead.


© EAW
June 8, 2006