This Wind You Talk Of

I feel the winds of change dip

and miss their wizened whipping

against cheek

miss the stagger in my walk

Beaufort’s notice now absent.

The air

is

still.

The leaves fall without cushion

hit ground that doesn’t differ

and lose themselves

under slackened feet

heavier step.

Sound echoes,

bounces its impudence off walls

bounces its impotence off shut doors,

peals off unseen ceilings.

Land cut off from sky.

Voice cut off from limitless possibility.

All of a sudden change means something old

not new

something unchallenged

not revolted

something saddened by an about turn in time

to a month before the showers that bring flowers

those symbols of peace

to the hair of people that believed we could

and has set trends

for the comb-overs to come over

all brash and branded

with weapon

with ignorance

to say we cannot.

I feel tongue thickened in mouth

like words’ power has forgotten its cause

because a louder voice,

one no one heard grow

from whisper

to shout

is talking over my monologue

is wagging its finger

is telling me things I know like I don’t

has been joined in choral strength

by those with unlined soles

and closed off souls

to silence those of us who loved that wind

and died when it was blown out.

7 thoughts on “This Wind You Talk Of

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