Wind

By Cliff Lake

 

Wind

 

A hot wind,

Feral, fatal,

And somehow focused,

A live thing seemingly,

Yet its wake is death,

Desiccation,

And dread.

For those that survived it had heard.

Susurrations,

Sibilance,

Sorcery.

This was a Sending,

A commit from afar,

A malevolence wrought.

The black work of a warlock unnamed,

Unknown,

Unexpected.

His incantations murmur beneath the gale,

Writhing wordings whistle and wail,

Indiscernible and still distinct,

Whispers in a tongue from some place shadowed.

Those that hear it go deaf,

Or go mad.

Those are the lucky.

Some are withered where they stand,

Their essence stolen seemingly from within,

Left empty,

And yet alive.

They will not recover.

And these too are yet lucky,

For there are those seemingly untouched,

Yet minus their very will.

These spend their remaining days at nothing:

They move not.

They speak not.

They eat not.

They have a madness of stillness,

None remain that can construct the coffins

They will never inhabit.

Authorities arrive

Seeking explanation they will never have,

For the still do not tell,

The mad say too much and too little both,

And the deaf will only shake their heads,

Not daring nor capable of

Repeating what they had heard.

A hot wind blew,

Feral, fatal, and somehow focused,

And then it was gone.

Little is said of it now,

Save for these poor lines,

And I have not been believed.

My daughter waves to me now,

Her signal for the evening meal,

I have not heard her voice these many years.

Not since…

Never mind that.

But should a strange blow come your way,

Should it speak,

Should it rob what it may rob from any,

Stop up your ears,

Close your windows, your doors, your eyes,

And hope.

 

Cliff Lake 9/11/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

One Thousand Horsemen

By Cliff Lake
  One Thousand Horsemen   The call of an ally, A friend of old: “We ask your aid! Will you be bold?”   “Ancient terrors, Assail once more! Will you honor The oaths we swore?”   One thousand horsemen answer the call,   One thousand horsemen riding tall. One thousand horsemen, they prepare. One thousand horsemen, forth they fare.   “We have no word, Are we not heard? Are we forgot? Do you come not?”   “The terror hails, Our people quail! We are beset, Will you come yet?”   One thousand horsemen upon the hill, One thousand horsemen, duty they fill. One thousand horsemen make the climb. One thousand horsemen, are they in time?   “What do we hear? Is succor near? Have you arrived? Will we survive?”   “Hail faithful friend! Fear not an end! Our hope has come, Sound the war drum!”   One thousand horsemen, banners raised! One thousand horsemen, unafraid! ...
Read more

The Edge

By Cliff Lake
  The Edge   Out on the edge… This is where we exist, A precipice, A future unseen and unknowable, An edge we constantly walk. Here on the edge, We step forward blindly, Though we tell ourselves That we have planned well, But the future, Has no regard, For the mere mortal. Walking the edge, We may not see, What falls lie before us, What chasms may claim us, Nor how deeply they lurk. But know this: We have the strength, To climb out of darkness, If we but dare the edge again. Fear not brother! You are your own savior, If you but make the merest try. Do not despair sister! The unlooked-for hand, Will reach for you yet! Remember: From the bottom, The only way is up. Forward is the only motion, Time is allowed, In this frame we inhabit. It is the step to the side, That carries you down, Out here on the edge…   Straight ahead then - The path is before you.   Cliff Lake 2/24/2024 Copyrigh...
Read more

Used Up 'n Dried Up

By Cliff Lake
  Used Up ‘n Dried Up   You scurried away from your ancestral home, Let’s face it boy, you’re out there on loan. Your markers cashed in, no more favors to call, Winds of change blowing cold, house of cards to fall. Livin’ in a hotel, bumming dollars from the poor, Sellin’ your Chinese trinkets, maybe try it door to door. Your hands in everyone’s pockets, no more spare change for you, Keep on beggin’ at the dockets, that is what’s left to do.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what they said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “You’re out on the street, you’ve used up your cred.” “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what I said.   Oh, how you fell hard for that dictator, A long-time, well-known master baiter. He always had you pegged as some petty clown, Just look at how he has jerked you around.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what he said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “Look at this crooked path t...
Read more