Dear Wind

by krstaten

Here you are–
howling and making a racket,
causing a scene,
somehow blowing right through the roof
and rattling the fan
in the ceiling of my bathroom.
Here you are–
pressing your angry face
to my windows
as if by pushing hard enough
on the glass
you can make yourself seen.

I’ve seen you.
I’ve watched the trees dancing
all morning
as if on ecstasy,
more lunging than swaying,
more escape than inspiration.

Maybe you think you’re accomplishing something.
Maybe you think if you’re loud enough
and strong enough
you’ll move something more worthwhile
than plastic bags and other garbage.
Maybe you think you’ll change something.
Maybe you will,
but not for the better.

Or maybe you’re saying something.
Maybe all this unnecessary movement
is just collateral damage,
just your breath on my ear
when you try to whisper something to me.
Whatever you’re saying,
I’m not understanding.

I’m not saying that’s your fault.
I’m saying there’s an absence
between thought and language
that even you can’t bridge.
I’m saying there’s an absence
between language and comprehension
that is beyond my abilities to fill.

I’m just saying I don’t think
I can even know what you’re saying.
Maybe there’s something pressing
I need to understand,
but it is simply beyond my understanding
and you are only bowling me over
in the attempt.


And, for National Poetry Month, a recommendation of poetry far better than mine:

Kingdom Come by Rowan Ricardo Phillips