Wind behind your heart


There is a wind blowing

behind your heart


The same air

filled these lungs

filled the space between

each movement,

moment, memory.


The same breeze blew

through the hair of your

child, sleeping finally on a bed of earth.


The same air.

This air

spread like wings, rippled like water

around the body of your hate

aimed straight to the heart,

in words just the same as plated lead.


And still the air fills you.

Though your every cell aches

for the end.

This wind, the same one,

fills your heart with blood

and your lungs with life.

poetryMegan Jones