Wednesday, January 6, 2010


I see a figure far off in the distance
Hair catching twigs, insects, debris
The wind is ceaseless in the sea of sand
Obstinate, firm, but always changing

The woman has no colour
She wears raggedy linens washed with dirt
I see her stumbling sideways like an inebriated crab
The wind is blowing from the east, the east

It shifts to the north, but she tries to go south
Every step she takes is futile
Inside that heart of steel rests a fragile candle nearly
Gone with the wind

Her robotic movements are staved off by the wind,
Adeptly parrying every step, every perspiring limb
You can hear it howling with delight
It's like placing a palm on the forehead of an angry child trying to punch you

She furrows her brow against the barrage
In a fit of fury, she runs, pushes against that invisible wall
Lets out a dry, throaty war cry
Trumpet call

It won't matter, doesn't she know?
The wind bullies me along towards her
As she slumps to the ground
The candle waves adieu

I run while there's a chance
Letting her enemy carry me
It seems surprised that I would not resist
Feeling used, it leaves, sulking as it goes

I reach her - she's ice cold
I fumble in my pocket for a match
Pry open the door to her iron chest
Emblazen the wick

Her eyes flutter, lips parched, blink
Gulp for air
I help her to her feet and turn her 180°
I catch the wonder on her leathery face before she's swept away.


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