Poem By Charity Gilbert
I did not think the wind was angry,
I took her as a child, running up the hillside.
A wild one, full of life.
Now that I am grown,
She too has grown.
No longer a young girl, energetic and playful,
Now she screams like a hawk soaring over the land.
She is not silent.
She will not take the abuse.
She will fight for the land.
She will scream,
Tearing through the trees just as you have done.
She knows her voice will be heard,
Her presence will be felt.
You will try to ignore, but she will howl through the air and pierce through to your heart until you understand just what you have done.
She is beautiful and strong and tumultuous and terrified.
I know the wind because I am the wind.
So tell me, do you think the wind is angry?