Sometimes, WIND

Sometimes the wind will pull up its sleeves
To labor with bees
Pieces of pollen through foreign
To help flowers kiss.
And this…maybe an unusual courtship.
A perfectly simple, satisfying kind of bliss.
Because this intimacy?
Has nothing to do with artificial boundaries;
Political Protocol;
Or diplomacy.
No, This…
This is divinely orchestrated
Organized and mandated
By the One who conducts natures symphonies,
the sparrows
and clothed
the flowers
in the first place.


The wind comes to support your fragile; kite-like dreams
Patched and held together by twigs
You could call it a … tentative.. kind of solid…
Seems impossible that they will ever take flight
But I think this will probably not stop you
From trying to get every gravity defying idea
Airborne and sky bound
And, honestly
To me-
There is a peculiar kind of beauty in your boldness
I love how the nobleness and grandiose of your goals seems to abound
I just want you to remember that in the end: only wind can help you, eventually, lift them off the ground.


The wind comes flexing

Sometimes vexing
Strong, Like storm
It blows away leaves and breaks bits of bark off trees
Sometimes blows the roof of comfort right off-of your life
Uproots and Destroys
Leaves you helpless, vulnerable, dependent
In the face of invisible power
That reminds you
That we humans
Are ultimately, as fragile, as dust
Our days as fleeting as seasons that pass
Our mortal life’s work can crumble in split second
You see wind helps us feel that – so that we fear it
and keep hoping; groping for faith in something that lasts
Because eternity? – that has been placed in our hearts.

The wind comes candid but cunning
Toys with the borders of youthful frivolous skirts
That barely skim the knee
Often Causes them
To balloon and swell
Almost as though the wind is trying to help us
Prepare us
Tell us
That all it takes
Is one, sudden, unforeseen gust
To leave us blushing.

The wind comes to console
Visits those places others have called God-forsaken
Where difficulties have taken their toll
And hope
has been all but stolen
Here the wind will stop and take a moment
To envelope the broken
In unseen embraces
Dry up the tears that flow down their faces
And, sometimes- that
Is all it takes
For us to realize
That we are not alone.
For us to see that even though we may not know
The why’s of what is going on,
The feel of the wind on your skin – can be the meaning.
The nearness of wind- can be everything.
Can change everything.
And No.
I don’t want to be presumptuous.
Would never say I have it all figured it out.
Because until perfect comes, I never will…
And yes.
I’m aware
That sometimes the same wind that blows umbrella’s away so that you
can feel the rain
Stirs up flickering flames into fires that blaze
So (like you?) I’m often moved to believe
That maybe all I really know about the wind
Is that it- is close to incomprehensible.
You can’t tell where it’s coming from
You can’t tell where it’s going
You just know that it blows where it pleases
And you know, somehow, that eases my anxious mind
Halts my rapid, endless thoughts and calls them to begin to comply
With the the deepness, in the stillness of peace
Ands its here, alone, solitary, still
That I begin
To feel the tingling thrill
Of the absurdly wonderful possibility
That sometimes…
Sometimes, when the wind comes so softly, you can barely hear it’s sound
So softly, you almost can’t sense it’s around
In those times that it is coming slowly,
It may be coming only
To whisper to certain; weather-beaten; lonely
Stark; Standing
Blades of grass
To remind them…
That despite their past…
It is still ok…to dance.

Sometimes, WIND ©2013
by: Julie Wang’ombe

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