Wednesday, 25 April 2012

The Song of the Wind

Sitting, hidden amongst the grass
I hear the wind sing the songs of lives past
Forever living along the breath of a breeze.
Childrens laughter played within the wind chimes;
Tales of love sung from the mountain tops.

Alone, safe upon the moor, I close my eyes
I dream the dreams of the gentle breeze.
It wipes away the tears tricking down my cheek,
Whispering ancient voices, knowing I am not alone.
Safe, and free, the endless beauties before me.

Arms outstretched the wind carries me afar
My life becoming a whisper
Carried softly through the trees.

©Invisible Shadows


  1. The last part of your poem reminds me of something Mariom Woodman said in her journal prose, Bones. She was being carried to hospital and I got the distinct impression that she was a package swaddled up for delivery. What are you being delivered to? I think you are brave and I have to now disagree with the header on your blog. I believe you are a survivor. What else could you be? Maybe the delivery and the place the wind carries you is simply found in creating a new definition. A new story.

  2. I'm going to have to look up Marion Woodman at the weekend; you mentioned her in your blog too.

    'Bravery' and 'survivor' are words still odd to me. I don't see bravery in letting anxieties dominate my life. But the past few days I have had a real hope that things will change. But I won't be a survivor until I can contemplate going to do a course of college without absolute fear and memories taking over. Someday it will be my choice whether I go or not, based on finance, and interest and dreams. Not based on bad memories and fear.

    Things are very 'stuck' at the moment, I am awaiting a referral with someone trained in PTSD to help me work through these anxieties and get to a point where I can really start a new life; full of dreams and hope. But, it is a 12 month waiting list, so should be put through in Autumn.

    Thankyou for your words, and your faith in there being a new story.
    Who knows where the wind will go :)

  3. A twelve month waiting list? That just seems so long. Well, memory is a strange thing. It is like you have been through a war or something. But why go back? Why go back to that same college or to any college for that matter? Why not take off on a new and totally different path? Not as a way of skirting the memories but as a way of saying this is what I choose for my life now. Just a thought.