I bend easy, like a willow, swaying in
every direction, never favoring
East over West. I am hungry for
all direction, feasting on the luxurious winds
that pick me up and carry me from the storms of
inexperience to the gentle breeze of wisdom.
Though, I snap as sharp as winter pea
skin, frost bitten by the breath of the season
when they try to take me.
They say I belong with them in the East, where
the sun rises just to shine its Gold on me.
They say I belong to the West and
the colours of their underground sunsets.
Some say I belong for them to share,
for them to grant my freedom,
and they do not understand that I belong
only to the wind.
Posted on December 9, 2012, in Poetry and tagged Breeze, encouragement, enlightenment, freedom, gentle, going with the flow, inspiration, Passion, Peace, poetry, Seasons, storms, Wind, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 32 Comments.