::
POETRY ::
We
Were
The
wind tonight is me at 14.
Precocious, persistent,
always a runaway.
Together we were conquering and robust,
the whistle that lives in the breaks between.
We were the Almighty as we tore
through the deepest splits of all,
hearts and minds, bodies and souls.
The
wind tonight has left me.
I thought we would always carry on
impish, aloft.
That thing that can’t be held.
Nature is simple and cruel and superior like that.
One day I thought the wind was me.
And we were the howl of the famished wolf.
e.w.
11/28/02
