The wind gusting, mocking order, laughing at our pretentions. Our sterile lives shaken, purified by your mighty breath.
Like sand you slip through our fingers, beyond control. Certainties shaken. Life giver and destroyer. Bringer of freedom, turning the world upside down.
The baby nestled in your loving hands. Your soft caresses elicit no response from it’s dead, metallic body. You fall asleep and dream of texts, the phone grasped in your warm, cyborg hand.
Oppressive heat. Barely a breath of wind. Smoke, something noxious, burning. A plane breaks the stillness. There is no restbite, the stifling heat continues.
An open window. Birds singing in the garden below. Cars passing, the sound of engines disappearing, forever lost in time and space.
I am the shadow which follows hard on your heels late at night, hood covered face, feral eyes gleaming under the street lamps.
I am the teenager aimlessly hanging around decrepit shops, their windows plastered with ads for “massage”.
I am the 14-year-old child who asks you to buy cigarettes or alcohol on my behalf. You pretend not to hear as you hurry on by.
I am the single mother, yelling at my kids,my once pretty face lined with care.
I am the drug addled thief, householder’s beware.
I am the one the press like to blame, “Those feckless people, have they no shame?”
You fear or placate me. I am your shame. Stubborn, immovable the underclass is my name.
What is it to be free?
Freedom is walking barefoot as dawn lights up the sky, damp grass underfoot, wild birds flying unconstrained above.
Freedom is speaking without fear of consequences, no glancing with trepidation over one’s shoulder.
Freedom is letting go,, being who you want to be, not the personification of the desires of others.
Freedom is the passionate kiss, love unbound.
Freedom is life, the opposite of death.
The man behind the screen watches his cold blue eyes intent, malevolent. He sees all, watches the mould slowly eating the walls, but who watches the watcher? Do men with emotionless faces mark his every move as the huntsman does the game,until, at last the rifle is raised and …
My dog found something in a graveyard, was it a bone I wonder? Chomp went his jaws, bone or whatever it was consigned to oblivion, to rumble and tumble in a canine’s stomach. Then out again, back to the ground, from the earth we come and to the earth we shall return.
Wind gusting on a spring day, you speak to me of freedom, of things beyond expression. Eternal force blowing forever on ancient peoples and now on me. You care not for civilisation, your gusts of laughter shake the bending trees. You blew before these buildings came, when all is gone you will remain.
Sometimes like a gentle girl, your soft caresses delight the world. At other times cold and sharp, your ice laden gusts freeze human hearts.
You are a force beyond control, you dwell within the human soul.
Not a second glance do you bestow on me as I hurry by, unassuming, heading for my lair.
Wrapped in darkness, encumbered by hate I sit fingers tapping oh so busily tapping, on keyboard spewing hate. I care not for you, my pleasure is your pain. Hatred like a stench fills the air, I am a troll ensconced in his lair.
K Morris - Poet 