Whispering Wind

I've been looking back through my old high school and college journals because I found them lurking in some dark, hidden corner of my attic I desperately want to clean out. I think they would make good kindling as I read some of the entries. There's a load of 'cheestastic' thoughts, (a term my daughter and I coined) a bunch of gushing sentimental ravings and most of the pages take up long sermons. Boy, I haven't changed much through the years. (Ha! Ha!)

Before I decide to chuck the old memories in the fire in my quest for catharsis; there were one or two things in my endless writing that may be worth saving. I may just share a few of my youthful thoughts in the next few posts for old times sake.

Who knows in another 20 years, I may riffle through this blog and have a bonfire, but for now this old poem made it out of the past and still has some bearing for the present.

Saint Matthew and the Angel: Rembrandt, 1661
'Whispering Angel'  Photo by: carulmare

Whispering Wind

A whispering wind bestows its wisdom in the ear of whom it chose,
but who is worthy to receive such wealth in a world full of woes?

What is this secret the wind whispers?
Where did it begin?
Was it from a woman's womb
or perhaps a weathered tomb?

Whose privileged ear does this breeze tend to brush?
A nursing infant whose mother quiets him with a hush
or an aged man sleeping eternally into dusk?

Journeying to the depths and heights,
searching for the answer morn and night,
I questioned wise men near and far
of whose answers seemed quite bizarre.

Traveling far my heart had to know
what was this secret the wind lay hold?
For this was the key to life unbarred,
free from sin and the bondage of scars.

Desperation enveloped my soul,
this curiosity has done its toll.
I fell to slumber under its weight
and that was where I met my fate.

I slid endlessly into a dream,
free from torment of my own scream
for the answer to this undying silence.

And then a whisper gently came to recompense

Speaking lowly and with only one sound,
the Breath of Life filled my ear with
the glorious answer releasing my fear.

Finally, the treasure I have found.

My heart raced with exhilaration
as senses savored this new incantation (mentation)
A smile disclosed this inward vision
and then….
I awoke.

Chandra Brown

UPDATE: 10/27/2017
OK, Since I've been accused of so many things that are not true recently... I am not, nor have I ever been a witch or involved in any divination practices with my consent. The word I used in this poem, 'incantation' certainly has it's roots in words used in magic spells. An unfortunate choice on my part, sure, I'll own it. I have always loved words and stringing them together has been a great enjoyment of mine. I've even admitted to using some a bit too liberally, as an amateur poet, I do this. So, I'll replace incantation with the word mentation. It means to think carefully on a matter. That better fits my personhood.
The poem is about the questioning and discovery of Love. I was single when I wrote the poem and had many musings (yes, I know that word can be taboo too) about the subject, I was studying the Victorian era where they were not open socially with their love interest and usually wrote notes and poems masking their feelings and intentions. (Read John Donne: The Flea- what a 'crafty' fellow).
So I mimicked what I was learning in the style of the poem.
Even the Apostle Paul called the subject of marital union between a man and a woman a mystery (Ephesians 5:32). I have been married for 19 years now and I still am baffled at God's design and gift within marriage.