All This Wind

You shouldn’t be here. Not
with all this
Wind.
Tendrils torn
Sweeping loss, flakes of flesh
Bits pealed away
Steal away
up to the sky
This Wind.
Tumbling, stumbling,
skittering down the street.
Pressed to a wall, a fence, a tree
Brief rest before whisking off
rolling, tearing, crumbling
chunks of muscle
The side of your face
The heel of you palm
broken jaw
You shouldn’t be here.
Not with all this
Wind.

Tables and graphs

You measure life

By your successes

But

You create no charts, legends, or keys

There is no presentation

documenting the good

Just burning images of all the bad

Your loss

Your hurt

Your wasted time

But each failure is actually a success

Yes, you learned a valuable lesson

Which ought to be followed with

“Today I”

And

“Tomorrow I

Will.”