Movement
© by Wendy Danser

The wind utters on one side
the birds on the other
they whisper the same language
and breathe in my ears

The door squeaks
Opens and shuts

The wind lies itself
in a whirlpool of sounds
Lifting obstacles
Blown
Washed away

Thoughts shattered to pieces
Locked up in a world of their own

Released as the lid of Pandora’s box
Lifts up

Its force too strong
for my arms to stop or hold

My hands clench into fists of rage
My grip too tight, you slip away

Shaking
the past quakes
in spiral movements
of spiritual substance

Turns
and returns
to ends and beginnings

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