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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
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