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The Wind’s Lament

I am the angry wind
that howls through these roofs.
I hear the whispers, the cries, the laughs.
I have no eyes, only ears.
I can see nothing, but hear the sum:
The minutest whisper, the hoarsest cry.
I drink in all, I delight in life.
I hear the laments, I try to caress
I hear the deceits, I lash out in rage.
I hear the empty preaching,
the murmurs - of the forced prisoners;
I hear of those anxious young desires,
to learn and progress -
in their rooms, when alone;
or in company, in discourses
on weighty matters,
in the loud chamber, with steel clanking:
and then, I bear their yawns, mixed
with the old voices teaching,
in those echoing rooms.
I was a zephyr,
but has been taught to sigh.
The young die here every day;
These graveyards of prisoners.
I escape each, and fly on
but more spring out every day -
capturing every empty corner.
 
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Posted by on October 7, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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