Bent On Belief There Is A Reason
With fewer smiles and colder tears
I’d whisper to the wind’ that I am here
and being buffeted by a belligerent sky
so although my abuser may ignore,
my cries are carried to far ends of earth,
below and above, in between snaking coulees,
up over highest mountains, across wet mouth of oceans,
and into sky where each word is put back into form
that only an angel can transcribe. There, mulled over,
checks and balances done, my pleas will be heard
and answered however I, or any other, might need them.
It is not for me to wonder why, such wild winds
bow, bend, and break off some of my best beliefs.
Perhaps my suffering is not for me. Perhaps I am wounded
so that others might see how to rise. Perhaps
my fiercest battles with breeze are meant
to show how geese-like others move to hold
tips of my broken wings. If so, then blow.
Take every curl of lip forever if this is what it takes.
Let tears chisel down into an ocean’s pool
And become frozen, so, if some should look,
their reflection might be seen in my icy face.
Come wind, I am not afraid of you. I have faith
that there are more important reasons for suffering
your wrath than simply my self-described miserable state.
Let me be sent to four corners of curious careening
so others might hear me call their name.
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