Wind
wind comes to me, whispering
whistling, howling, raging to levitate, liberate
lift me over all this
you are air, wild breezes
you call to me, bang at my window
blow through my chimney
get caught in my alcove
till I hand myself over
I know my task
up on the cliffs
you flap through the pages of my book
so I must fight to keep my place
you get between me & the world
you blow on my scalp: my locks
wave and bend like palm trees
in a hurricane on a Caribbean beach
they lie flat on my head, obedient
in worship, your servants
I become your instrument
and you inflate me, balloon me
my shirt billows, my jacket becomes a sail
and I am airborne, bouncing over
cliffs & clouds at your will
you blow majestically
through my ears & nostrils
through my cavities
I am your plaything, your whistle
my lungs & ribcage hum your tune
the sun scorches my skin, erodes
my flesh till I am all bone, smooth & white
now I am wind chimes, your percussion
you rattle me rhythmically
then in unexpected gusts
till I am pulverized & blown over fields
dotted with cattle and vibrant gorse
over steep and jagged cliffs
over the blue sea with curling waves
that crash to white foam and retreat
©Hillary Keel
