psithurism (voice of wind)

Of all the elements;

Of Sun, Rain, Wind, Earth

My relationship with Wind

Had been strained…

My sensations of Wind

The tingling, brushing,

Blowing, pressing into me

Overstimulate,

Raising, tickling hairs on my skin

The whipping, shushing

Stroking, whooshing into me

With an uninvited intimacy

Swishing hairs on my head

Of all the elements

Wind and I meet with tension

Her tenacity//my humility

Overpowered by headwind

Bowled over by tailwind

Casted sideways in missteps

Swirled dizzy in the vortex

Noxious stimuli unleashed

And yet in the claustrophobic,

Suffocating stillness of 2020*

Wind came not to decimate

Wind came again & again

to befriend me

Her aliveness, her movement

Her dance upon my skin

Her swim into my lungs

Awakened & reminded me

of my own wind elements

And it was her Voice singing

Through the instruments of trees;

Her psithurism**

That instead of an aggravation

A primal hush, wush, swush,

Eliciting a sacred evocation in me

That even within

All the constriction~I could move my limbs

All the isolation~I could embrace the trees

All the death~I was expansively alive—

Revealing I am both the wind & the trees

What is my voice unseen, unheard until

The blowing & brushing

The whipping & whooshing

The pushing & pressing,

Up against another part of me…

What does she then have to say?

Poetry…as prayer

*what unsolicited gifts of 2020 revealed themselves in you?

**psithurism

(n.) the sound of wind in the trees and rustling of leaves