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Sharply Sings The Wind
That ancient soft breeze that caressed this land
She isn't soft anymore
The wind now blows with icy carving force
Tearing away the old hills
Rendering our home into glass-smooth pitted moors
We shriek into the night
Tearing our eyes from the black sky
Toward the guttering flames of our cave fires
We shivver alongside the thinning canopy of great trees
That bend and break under the weeping sky
The gods are not to blame
We cannot curse the fates
We cannot wait for the sun to warm us again
We can only sit by our cave fires
As our caves are ripped away from us
The first of many trees fall this evening
Fall not by our hands
The branches whip and stir the wind
The leaves are not our own
This greater bravado
Gives her desire and a desperation
To cleanse our lands
And sing unfettered of trees
She sings only of the freedom to howl
Free of building and mountain
She sings only of the freedom to sing
Things we have long ago forgotten
She sings until the sun grows delirious
Deaf, he turns away from his children
And leaves them to the wind they regret creating
Their cave fires out, their children cold
the depth in this piece just amazes me.... I tell you ,,, you have a way with words the so few have.... another well written poem...