My Meeting with The Wind

I tried to speak

but the wind swallowed
my words.

So I climbed
to the top of a hill

to hear
what the wind spits out.

I stood in a clearing
without the trees around
to whisper their secrets.

The wind must realize
what it is
on its own.

Wind in air.

The sky’s invisible hand.

The one that silences speech.

The one that moves
birds and trees,
people and homes
with gusto.

The one that brings relief
to a scorching summer.

Stillness
to shivering cold.

The one that helps you climb.

Or throws you from the mountain
when you stop paying attention.

Who operates the wind?

What does it want?

I climbed the hill
to find out.

But up there
the wind had no answers.

Instead
it asked me questions.

Why is it
that all who are
block me from flowing freely?

Why do trees creep in my way?

Why do birds use me?

And people…

People don’t even know I exist.

People don’t know
that I am.

The wind was unresolved.

It could not see us
the same way
we cannot see it.

We are friends
who can never stay
on the same side
of the fence.

And I told the wind
I had no answers.

Only this:

When it feels
like I block your path,

perhaps
I am embracing you.

The same way
I feel your wing
as an embrace
in my solitude

while I walk the streets
wondering
if anyone else knows
that I am.

I told it:

You are always welcome.

No matter
how dangerous the climb.

No matter
how cold the day.

Your existence
does not need
to be convenient.

Flow freely.

Come into me.

Explore form.

Explore my shape
as though it were your own.

Then I asked:

What is it like
when I move
and you are always in the way?

Are we adversaries?

Or companions

walking lonely streets together,

finding wonder
inside the mystery?

They say
you are four-sided.

I have only known you
as one.

And there
I took a deep breath

and exhaled
as if for the last time,

knowing my form
would float and find
another lonely traveler.