Invisible friend

The hidden hand in the sky.

The one that silences speech.

The one that moves
birds, trees,
people,

and remnants
of what was.

The one that relieves
a scorching summer,

or freezes still
the shivering cold.

The current that helps one
up the mountain,

or throws one
from its edge.

Who operates the wind?

What does it want?

I asked,

but the wind swallowed
my words.

So I climbed
to the top of a hill.

I stood in a clearing
and waited to hear
what the wind spits 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
never step aside?

Why do birds
use me?

And people…

People don’t know
I Am here.

The wind was unresolved.

It could not see me
as I could not see it.

We were children
who could 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

while I walk the streets
wondering
if anyone else knows
I Am here.

I told it:

You are always welcome.

No matter
how dangerous the climb.

No matter
how cold the day.

Your existence
need not be
convenient.

Flow freely.

Come into me.

Explore form.

Explore my shape
as if it were your own.

Then I asked:

What is it like
when I move
and you are always in my path?

Are we adversaries?

Or companions

walking silent 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 someday drift
toward another
lonesome traveler.