I Remember Wind

I remember wind. I remember the taste of it as I parted my lips to laugh with it. I remember the feel of it, brushing against my skin in welcome. I remember how cold and harsh it could be and how warm and soft. I remember how I loved it.

I used to fly with it. I used to jump and not come down for hours. I used to follow it. I used to get lost in its embrace. I used to become part of it. I used to forget that I had a body. I used to have wings. 

My fingers slide across my shoulder, under the fabric of my shirt. Straining to feel the touch of feathers, I push my fingers farther down, sliding down my back to my shoulder blade. Only rough scars scrape my fingers. Inside me well an ocean of tears, pushing to break out of me, pushing toward my eyes. I squeeze them shut, not willing to let myself cry. Flying used to be my life, my spirit, my soul. Wind used to be the rhythm of my heart. Still I could feel it, that faint beat of wings, that faint pulse unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

Air slides across my skin, a gentle comforting breeze. It is all the wind is now, a comforting hand on my arm. No longer is it playful, tugging me up with it. No longer is it reprimanding, telling me off for not spending enough time with it. Only comforting, only consoling. I let my breath out, imagining I breathe myself out with it and float up and up until I am higher than I have ever been before.

Now my wings are cut, hacked off savagely while I had still been awake to scream and cry and beg. They’d let me go after hours, bleeding and dizzy. I’d had to run away from the group of men and women. I’d had to run. They were in jail now for battery, but the term was too kind to them. What they had committed hadn’t been a beating surged with fear. It had been murder.

My face turns toward the sky, my eyes close, my cheeks wet, my fingers falling away from the scars. I can feel the wind. I can feel its comfort. I can feel its life. I can feel its breath. I can feel its heartbeat. I can feel its pulse…but I can not join it.

Reviews

[Christopher_Myles]

This reminds me of the loss of innocence when you grow up. I feel like all of your senses are more active as a child, just a simple experience like feeling the wind can be so exhilarating. As you grow up the pain and imperfection of the world is passed on to you and you become numb unable to truly become one with those simple experiences again. Meditation is good for feeling the wind again.

[Archia]

This was so truly beautiful, I loved the way you described her relationship with the wind. It's so sad as well, that she cannot join it anymore.

[emma]

wow. so descriptive, and really powerful. fully enjoyed it, and was captivating from line one. :)

[Jasmine Thousand]

Short, simple and amazing.
~Jasmine Thousand~