if it comes
it comes with immediacy
the eyes sag
the body caves in
on itself
and for a brief moment
there is relief
unfortunately
all too brief
before being blown away
by the wind
that howls outside
my conscious door
wind
this wind
this wind that howls
outside my windows
spraying rain at times
on the terraces the balconies
this wind that moans
beyond my windows
is the only music
I listen to
and for reasons unexplained
comforts me
more than Sibelius
or Ralph Vaughan Williams
could today
somewhat like Lear
that wind
ripping this world apart
and these memories
raging in me
waiting for dawn
the wind moans
outside all night long
the cat clings
wrapped around my arm
my eyes stare
where the ceiling should be
waiting for dawn
that wind
there’s that wind
that wind
restless outside
the window the door
yearning turning
that wind
that wind
inside of me
there is a wind
there is a wind
that blows
from where I stand
over land over sea
no mountain high
no ocean wide
can stop this wind
from caressing the faces
of those I love
wherever they may be
an Inca song
My mother bore me,
Ah!
Within a raincloud,
Ah!
That I might weep with the rain,
Ah!
That I might whirl with the cloud,
Ah!
translated from the Quechua into French by R. & M. d’Harcourt
translated from the French into English by John Bierhorst
a Navajo poem: It Was The Wind
It was the wind that gave them life. It is the wind that comes out of our mouths now that gives us life. When this ceases to blow we die. In the skin at the tips of our fingers we see the trail of the wind; it shows us where the wind blew when our ancestors were created.
translated by Washington Matthews
the wind blows
the wind blows
steady
tonight
carrying with it
the weight
of a heart
Leonard Durso 