Imprisoned by the Wind

I was born to be free

To sit by still waters and bathe my feet

Lose myself in the valleys

And quench my thirst from crystal clear streams

To see the world from the tops of many mountains

I was released to walk in confidence

Of all I know

Free from fear

Of ignorance and knowledge

Of growth and need.

But the wind blows often

And the wind blows strong

Changes, they arrive many more times than seasons change

Without warning

Without delay

And as the wind blows I am set back

In my prison of solitude

Without a friend to call my own

Nor a hope in my heart.

I was born to dangle my feet over the side

Throwing caution to the westerly wind

Emotions and whims, freedoms call, never to be denied,

To run wild and remain untamed

But the wind blows often

And the wind blows strong

My freedoms have been rescinded

The functions of my heart

Reduced to ink on the pages of a closed, shelved book

Oh how I wish for the valleys

Green rich and pure

For the waves of the Atlantic,

Harsh, playful and raw

The mountains where the air is thin

And drifts through my nostrils with ease

But the wind blows often

And when it blows

The wind is strong.

© Simon Bucknor 2009

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