A cold wind
 

A cold wind blew through the kitchen, not the

Kind of wind let in by an open window or door,

More the kind of wind that when it's done with

The kitchen moves through the house, finally

Ending up in the bedroom.

 

An inescapable wind of some magnitude, a

Searching penetrating wind that sucks into its

Vortex every scrap of blame there is to be had.

Blame going back over so many years it's hard

To see how a loved one could lock so much bad

Blood away for so long and choose to wheel it

Now, unless it was...

 

A wind with a purpose and its purpose freedom,

Freedom to escape the chains of belonging,

Freedom to roam where it will when it will. A

Singular selfish wind, no invitation extended to

Former lover or partner, no time to waste on

Niceties or convivialities. Urgency is in the air,

Places to be, people to see. Time is of the

Essence.

 

And when the wind has blown its worst there

Comes a lull, a lull whilst the one most affected

By this careering turbulence finds his or her

Bearings. When slowly but surely another

Depression begins to develop, another tightening

Of the isobars, and hence another wind begins to

Blow, a wind that wants its freedom too...

 

And lo, the lawyers rejoiced.

 

© Joseph G Dawson