Whispers of the Wind

photo by Raimand Klavins on Unsplash

Whispers of the Wind

Have you ever stood beneath a sky torn open,

facing into a wind too sharp, too cold—

and chosen, still, to stay?

Sometimes, it is the fiercest wind

that teaches us how to stand taller,

how to root more deeply into the earth.

Wind narrows the eyes,

asks us to see differently—

not less, but more.

And when the dust at last settles,

there is clarity,

a wider sky within us

where something tired

can finally rest.

Harnessed,

the wind turns turbines, lifts water from the deep,

and wears even mountains to dust.

Unseen,

it dances as smoke through shaman’s tobacco,

clearing the dross that clings too tightly

through the unseen body.

And though hurricanes roar through the spirals of the mind,

there is a part of us—

quiet, aware—

that remains untouched.

Do you turn toward the dark clouds within,

or can you perceive

the vast sky beyond them?

Notice the wind—how it moves through thought,

through breath,

through time.

The place where I sit now

is not what it was six years ago,

nor six months,

nor six days.

This body—a miracle—lives,

transforms,

and quietly begins to return.

Still,

birth, aging, illness, death—none can resist

the one who moves yet is never moved:

the source,

the life-force behind breath.

Wind carries our prayers—

through flags, through leaves,

through whispers of compassion.

May it blow softly

through the guarded doors of our hearts,

reminding us:

we are one body,

one breath,

one life moving through all things.