The Passing Wind

This is a poem about the wind

The Passing Wind (2009)

Shh, be still and listen

And know the passing wind.

She speaks so sweetly

In the ears of children

And all who have truly lived.

Once I thought I heard her,

Whispering without end

So I grabbed my pen and

Translated each breath

From beginning until the end.

On every page that was ever made

On walls and floors and ceilings too.

I wrote with every pen,

All that had ever been

And left them worn and used.

I then held the transcript

Of the wind’s spoken word;

And hoped to see something

That I had not yet learned.

But to my surprise

Every wall, roof and line

Had simply vanished

Right before my eyes.

And there my heart dropped

As if I were to die,

And it was at that moment

When the wind simply sighed

And said:

“My child, be still and hear me;

For I am the passing wind.

Put down your pens and listen

Then hear me once again"

Reviews

[MaryP]

LOVE THIS.
It's true the most valuable knowledge shouldn't be written down and passed on, it should be experienced, felt.
"The Wind" could be seen as a metaphor for the omnipresent possibilty to learn more, to be better. Sometimes when you try to hard to grasp it, it dissapears.
You just have to let it be, and open yourself to it. GREAT piece.

[TBird J.]

The wind is a wise woman. She'll tell you all her secrets if you listen. You did a wonderful job on this. I so love the very end. The imagery it conveys is so whimsical and enchanted.

[Sugar Plum ♥]

Magical realism :) I love the words of wind, specially when they cant be written. they are breath and sigh...