January 24, 2014

Don’t Look Back

I stand on the crest of the hill, overlooking the sea...crashing, crashing; waves; come unto me..!!  The wind replies; distinct sounds...a rumble, a whistle, screeches and howls!  Limbs crack, snap, calling me back.  My soul, my soul!  

The old house hears, yes it hears; to speak, to groan and then a moan, an echo to be sure, to a voice:  Is anyone home!?  The old house beckons, destruction appears, the waves cannot sway; Come here, come near, nearer, and I will speak:  Out of my way!

My foot slips and slides, catching a branch, breaking the fall.  Close, closer, almost there; waves sigh:  Almost, almost caught, almost to die!

Streaming, screaming, howls the wind:  Do not touch the soul’s dead skin!  Numbing, numbed by cold, long lost the sounds, the winds of old.  Buried deep, deeply into the sea; waiting, watching, harkening:  Come unto me!

Slivers of ice, broken, sharp, drop from the sky; winds take the twisted, driving them down and down…drawing lines in the sky, pockmarked designs:  Everyone pines. 

Wind, oh wind look how it sales; look up, look up, glancing arrows, frozen air, sling them aside:  Speak into the crowd:  No wailing aloud!

Little did I know, the earth drew, sucked in the fire, little did I know the flames drew without tire. How did I know, why would I care?   Only you can speak the words I desire; only you would know; only you can share.

Scraps of skin cling to the shards; I walk away, feet into yards; the temptress may be stalking, I'm blind and cannot see. Step back; step back, away from the sea.

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