Wind

May 19, 2008 9:59 am

The wind says,

Stories are gifts.

I have never asked you to look for them.

I offered them to you.

Last night Joey saw me sitting in the kitchen, “What is it?”

“Just sad,” I said, “It’s the wind.”

Joey said, “I sometimes wonder…I wonder if the wind is a boy or a girl…I’ll ask around…The winds are my friends.”

Like the rain can be a boy or a girl.

You can tell by the raindrops.

I whispered, “This one’s a boy…”

I felt the wind about to come last night.

I went to the kitchen, smoked, and waited---

thinking,

Do not think that you can out-wait me.

I know how to wait.

I have been waiting.

Come.

The wind had come the other day, a witch, and whispered,

“Her breast was taken.”

I held on to her hand-- a gnarled bleeding branch-- and I answered, “Now it begins

for my Godmother.

It all continues until this ends.”

The witch said, “The blood of Santiago took you.

Father continues to take your sacrifice, Mother.”

I have been waiting for 23 years.

I bowed my head to the wind, my Daughter.

Then I continue my vigil.

The wind had come and whispered, “I am sad.”

I am

I asked, “You know why?”

The wind answered, “I’m not with you.”

I left the kitchen, returned to my room, sat on the floor, curled my arms around my knees, counted, and wept.

The wind continued to whisper---

I’m sad…I know. I still am

Then the wind taunted---

Look for me…If you can

The wind continued to whisper---

We will. I am alone. I am deserted. I am…I am…What I want to be.

I said to the wind, “You are not alone. You are with me, everyday.”

I came as a wind and whispered tears, “This wind’s sad. I can feel the sadness.”

The wind said, “Cry my sweet girl.”

I cried. “Thank you for so much love and listening.”

She whispered, “You’re worth it.”

I bowed my head to the wind, my Sister.

Then I continue my vigil.

The wind whispered and taunted---

I am. Try to find me…If you can

I said to the wind, “The wind will pass and the sadness will leave with it…(We all choose to become what we are. We deserve what we desire.) Thank you for tonight. Sleep…Dream…Wake…”

The other night the wind had come, a crone, and whispered, “Oh my child.

What have you done to yourself?”

I cried, “I took what’s left of my heart back, Mother.

The sacrifice the blood of Santiago took 23 years ago.

My blood that I gave to Father:

Their bleeding that my Daughter continues until it all ends.”

She hissed, “You will die.”

I nodded and smiled, tired, “I know, Mother. I feel myself dying.”

She whispered tears, “Have you found someone to pass on your mutya?”

I prayed, “I believe so… Soon. I still have time. Don’t cry.”

I bowed my head to head to the wind, my Mother.

Then I continue my vigil.

The wind had come last night and I wiped my tears, left my room, returned to the kitchen, smoked, waited---

thinking,

Do not think I will come to you.

I know how to wait.

I have been waiting.

Come.

Joey arrived, saw me sitting in the kitchen and asked, “What is it?”

“Just sad,” I said, “It’s the wind.”

Joey said, “I sometimes wonder…I wonder if the wind is a boy or a girl…I’ll ask around…The winds are my friends.”

I whispered, smiled, tired, “This one’s a boy…

Are you hungry? I can cook something for you.”

He shook his head and embraced me.

I continue my vigil.