Elwenyare

daughter of the wind

 

She is not yet a year old

                and she is enthralled

by the rain that pours outside the open door

                so she creeps to stand, clinging to the doorframe

and falls, but not before a fat drop of rain

                plashes just out of reach of her wondering fingers.

 

She is six

                balancing on the plank over the creek

that to her is a river, fast-flowing and lovely

                where she sits for hours, watching the

never-ending dance of minnows and reeds and play of light

                with the sound of flowing water in her ears.

 

She is thirteen

                moving with the clumsy grace of a girl who is

unknowingly becoming a woman

                stepping carefully through the little forest

around and about in the filtering green light

                brushing careless, sensitive fingers over the trees

smiling with secret delight at the flashes of startled grey fur

                listening to the rustle of bracken under her feet

breathing deeply of the scent of mountain pine.

 

She is almost sixteen

                change blowing restless around her

as she wishes that the sand could please her mind as it does her feet

and slowly it does, fears and doubts and too-hurried thoughts fading

to be replaced by peace and the sight of the ever-changing sea

navy jade blue white aqua cobalt gold green brown diamond silver

 emotions thousand-fold in the beautiful mirror before her reflecting

                and glorifying the everyday beauty of the clouds

and she hears the rushing reluctant waves and the light teasing wind on the sand

                and she stands, a living salt tang swirling around her

feet buried deep in grainy sand and the cool rush of ocean water

that rises to go and come again.

 

She is nineteen

                and the grass lies empty before her and she does not look behind

not yet, but watches the fading of the bright afternoon light

eclipsed by something smaller yet more powerful, now

heralded by a high wind that blows the tall grass about her bare feet

and she turns, lifting closed eyes and raising her arms

wind whipping her hair and tangling it in the coming power

                and she embraces the storm

 

springing into motion with the first drops of rain on her face

                a laughing glance for the center of the slowly revolving clouds

as she races the other way, to the light, not trying to reach it although she could

more fleet than any deer, more graceful, more pure

letting the clouds roll overhead to almost fill her vision

                blinding, brilliant lightning reflected in her exultant glowing eyes

thunder rumbling and rolling into earsplitting crashes

                and her wild joyous laughter rings over the storm

and the scent of the grass rises to meet her, mingling with the scent of rain

                the drops falling in vain attempt to touch her

but it is the wind that does, powerful, gusting and surging

                over and beneath and around and within

filling her with pure intoxicating life

 

and she flies, beneath the clouds but not captive to the storm

                head raised to the roiling skies

running, feet just skimming the ground

                laughing with joy

alive to the wind with the taste of falling rain on her lips.