Such a thought;
Go back and start from there; then fly ahead.
Do it; catch the biggest wind.
Pick a point when you can remember the
Smell of dirt on your knees,
The feeling of running your hand through your curly hair,
And how glad you were that your little tanned arms were
As strong as they were.
No one else was around;
It was you, in the meadow, with the sun and a
July breeze, giddy to be there with you.
Pick this point and just come ahead from there,
From your perfectness.
Skip everything in between;
So little of it lit you up.
That July breeze would be splendid, and
Absolutely glad to help ...
It loved you so much.
Or the pond;
Catch the wind that sent ripples, like kisses, across the pond
When the tadpoles lined the shore like black lace, and
If you were lucky, a snake under the sweeping walnut tree;
Always a garter or a copper belly, but they swam like pythons...
The afternoon spent drifting on the raft,
Teasing the stuck shade of that tree,
Watching the clouds and the boatmen bugs, and content
Not to be in the house, so dark and thick, even on a sunny day.
That wind, that very wind was part of your stories and
Moved you along, cooled you, loved you,
Would be so glad to float you ahead.
Yes, skip everything else. None of it was yours,
Yet it was put upon you; weighing you down instead of
Raising you up.
This wind; 'drop everything in a heartbeat to help you.
The winter wind,
Wound around the door of your snow fort;
Made the most horrendous sounds as you
Dug deep in until you could stand,
Mitts sopping, but the quiet, dampening
Hush of the snow pack captivated you,
Soothed you as you dug out your shelves and bed.
So quiet in there.
Your heart; your ravenous little heart was all you could hear,
Until you finally emerged to the howling, impressed wind;
Blustering and busting, wanting nothing more than to
Send you on ahead;
To pick you up and carry you over all of those
Disappointments; drifts of sadness.
This one loved you, loved all of you.
This wind celebrated your
Saw you look to the sky,
Notice the flakes, and
Knew that you felt it and all that it was made of ...
Then it confesses; these winds, all the same wind;
Saw you, waited for you to escape the house each day;
Caressed you, your brilliance,
Your radiance in early days and then watched with
Such sadness as you
Disappeared within yourself, out of wind's reach.
It watched you through the seasons and the years;
Your meadow, your raft, and your fort turned to a
Somnambulistic ramble down concrete streets.
... until a short while ago, someone woke you up.
They woke you up and guided you,
Sleepy head, to feel that wind again, and
Delight in its recognition of
Who you really are.
And though you can't go back and start from the meadow,
You can acknowledge and trust in why this wind,
This ever-faithful wind, loved you so very much;
And is, once again, "giddy" to be with you.