ethel’s words

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 (Wanted to be a Song)

Here in my dark and lonely cell
I remember wind.
Here where my grief I cannot tell,
I remember wind.

        Shut in this dank and stagnant air,
        I dream of wind to blow my hair;
        Wind in a morning fresh with dew,
        Or desert wind so crystal blue,
        That smells of piñon and of sage--
        To calm my heart and still my rage.
        I crave the wind.

        I long for winds to make a song
        To push my hapless blood along,
        For nothing moves here but the dream--
        Nothing but images that stream
        Across my troubled, lonely mind,
        Seeking escape I cannot find.
        I wish for wind.

Locked in this bleak and torturing cell,
I think of wind.
While I am aching in this hell,
I yearn for wind.
Here where my hope for justice fell,
I cry for wind.
So long as I'm alive to tell,
I'll praise the wind.

How I remember wind--
I remember wind--
Remember wind--

© Copyright, 2002

Ethel C. Hale