Day 359

The wind is so strong
it blows away
memories, blows away words,
tears, the sound of flesh
burning, blows away a dream
of horses standing in a field, blue
rosemary flowers, bending
wheat.  The wind has a voice
you know, a voice
that moves through you like 
blood, like a river, like
something rising.  The wind
is so strong it is carrying you
to a place you have
never seen, pushing you,
tossing you.  What you remember
before it began  
was a street, children running,
houses falling, then suddenly everything
dark.  Are you my death
you ask the wind, is this
how you come for me?