A wind came rushing and stole my soul; “see,
please -- come with me to skies of height, delight
will feather your form as I adore thee
with mysteries of life.” This was at night.

I wondered how a wind could speak, forsook
my self, trembled and swelled, denied spirit
his seed -- how could it be? Unwritten book
described to me how wind and wave can fit.

A wave of water washed over me; “see,”
it breathed, “I am your destiny, come with
me, to the bottom of the sea, with me…
I will fill you, with mysteries of birth.

I clung to tree, and clung to shore; alas,
no more am I earthly borne, I must pass.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 7/8/04