the wind sees

Syntax & Skin — my poetry series where language becomes a vessel for exploring the lived human experience

this dark, final night

found me with open arms.

walls groaning as gusts beat

against the wooden skeleton

I call home.

-

acceptance — a last virtue,

except the sea plays and sways

to its dance of the wind.

dead grass can no longer die,

stagnant witness to the demise

of its occupier.

-

I wish for no arc in the flood,

only for the mercy of thunder

to keep my company –

for its roars say what I cannot.

-

following bolts of light

remind me of the time

Mother tucked me into bed

so gently, counting seconds

that went by — as if time equated

to a distance away from death.

-

no — the ocean knows

and the wind sees

the inevitability of consequence

all man is subjected

when believing he can conquer

and live in peace

amongst whom he has destroyed.

-

foolish — to think the skeletons of our

bodies, innovations, souls could ever

outlast the wrath of the true Mother,

for believing we were ever her equals.

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If you’ve come across this, you’ve just read the second poem of my “Syntax & Skin” series! Thank you so much for reading, as I hope that my work can touch the hearts and souls of many. Keep a look-out for more short stories, poetry, blogs, and op-eds