“History”

you had us hurt,
in wonderment.
an astonished
palm cuts itself
on coarse bark,
beside a tall
carved boulder.

he thought, groves
to forgotten things,
names with absent
meanings – here,
I could sit and think.

“The Wind”

Silent thought and song
reverberates around me.
Into words I walk.

Through thoughtless fancy
I sit amongst the white trees
while freedom flies from me.

In struggle, I step
above the tenuous treetops
to stop and see it all.

I raise my hands up
to feel the wind strike my palms.
I felt so free, then.

When will the wind cut
these old, rusted chains asunder
and carry me away?