A crooked arrow flys straight as long as it finds its own path...

Sunday, January 8, 2012

The Woman and The Wind

The Woman and The Wind

We dance and for a second she forgets and feels free.
I see the beauty in her, breathe
before a rooted thought of wrong doing enters
and she kneels down,
blindly searching for the chain to shackle herself
back into the cage.
For she loves the ones who created the walls
and she hasn’t the strength to break those down,
not when it means destroying all she knows.
I watch her sit there and hum so sweetly,
changing tears to a tune,
distracting herself with so many other things
which fills her time and her space,
but there’s no stopping the racing of a heart,
it’s a magic science, a crazy chemistry,
which bolts thunder claps from the brain to the belly,
that moves the body quicker than lightning.
And the mind blinded,
cannot keep up with the heart of the body.
Her body moves with another of the same form,
like an ocean with the shore, over and over,
it soothes as it moves.
The light is followed with a BANG!
The cell door clatters open and slams shut with a bewildered wind,
as she remembers that all she feels is not allowed
and retreats out of a cherished love for those who fail to understand.
The wind does not strike her;
it is not angry, but gentle and warm.
It cradles her when she’s sad
and lifts her high when she’s feeling blue,
it does not control her with fear,
but with comfort and love.
It tickles her and makes her smile,
all the time misunderstanding the black shape,
which moves on the floor.
The wind wishes to blow it away,
using bigger and bigger puffs,
and afterwards is left exhausted.
The black mark is unfathomable to the wind.
”It’s still there, that dirty black mark
which follows you around.
Why can’t you leave her be?” It howls.
And she cries out with a muted voice,
which echoes the temples of distant lands.
“It is a part of me!”
The wind howls again, anguished and sad,
blowing the words spoken away,
unable to hear them through distortions of pain.
It picks itself up for another gust and another,
“Why won’t it leave? The place will look so much cleaner
without that black mark which keeps following you around.”
It blows unrelenting,
like a house proud mother
wiping at a stubborn wooden tabletop stain,
unknowing that it is a knot, a natural pattern of the wood.
“Please, let it be. It is a part of me.”
whispers the wood and the woman.
The wind slowly stops dancing and becomes heavy,
which sinks her radiant smile and twinkling star eyes
to black holes.
I see the blindness of the wind, blowing at the black mark,
with more gust and enthusiasm,
seeing improvement and progress,
as the mark moves away, by the power the wind possesses,
or so it thinks.
Ony the wind does not realize,
that it is her beloved that blows into a ball,
over and over, tied in knots, until she cannot breathe.
The wind does not see the position she is in.
It does not see the vases knocked over
and smashed to smithereens,
like salt bubbles that explode from her eyes
when she loses control and snivel sniff cries,
“I don’t want to be so sensitive to this,
but it scares me so much to be cold
and unaffected by it all.
When I think of homophobia,
I think of bullies spitting comments in a crowd
or on a street,
of hate crimes and terrible things like these.
I never in my wildest dreams
thought it could be like this.”
Flowers lay unnoticed on the broken glass ground,
trodden on by all those others who don’t look down.
(and jeez, there are many, too many for there to be more)
Hold up ~
For all the guns in the world,
that ends a life with less than a thought,
could we not shoot each other a smile from time to time
and try,
just try to get along, it is after all only love.
The rest doesn’t really matter,
it is only love that connects us all,
that gets us through~
Thank you, now back to the poem…
As the wind blows unstoppable at her shadow,
wishing for it to not be there,
she stands up strong and bold
through the blinding, deafening gale.
She does not move an inch by the gust,
as her hair, wild like flames lick up to heaven, around her.
The heart does not choose who it races, falls or breaks for,
nor does the arms of love choose who it chases, catches or crushes.
When eyes connect, they speak languages unknown,
never spoken before
from the beginning of time to now,
so much is said and expressed without a word uttered,
and it unfolds in another reality in the flash of a second.
The feeling ignited, may blaze, or it may smoulder,
but it can never be forgotten.
She stands through the gale, lifts her head high
and says, “My shadow exists because I have found light,
for it to disappear I shall live in darkness,
and like the bird set free from its cage,
it cannot return, once it knows what it has learnt.”
The thing which she needs now more than ever,
is not shelter from the wind,
but for the wind to blow down the walls
it has created over time,
and hold her in acceptance,
for no one knows more than the wind,
how wonderful and important it is
to be free from all these things,
to feel free to dance peacefully.
Sent in by: Anonymous
Age: 29
Location: San Francisco

 Found this online, so beautiful......

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