I hear the Wind I think,
And It’s calling out my name.
A familiar, unrecognized,
Melody.
Longing for harmonies.
Crying out for change.
Drawing me back again I think,
To the same place,
That I’ve never really been.
Will I go this time?
Or like Lot’s wife will I only look behind?
Again?
For things that have never really been.
The Wind’s still
Calling me calling me.
This unknown melody,
It’s haunting me.
Is it the cry of the Cherokee,
Or the specter of Lakota from the silent graves at Wounded  Knee?
Like Moses calling to pharaoh,
Set the children free.
Or maybe even 1863?
The rattling of the chains,
Of the sons of former slaves?
Has this trail of tears led me here to stay?
Paralyzed Hypnotized?
As the politicians chase the imaginary
Manifest Destiny.
But what do I know,
About that,
Anyway?
Was It the call of John Brown’s raid?
Crying out for change?
Was he almost Heaven West Virginia?
The white man sure thought he had it made.
Privileged,
But what do I
Know about that
Anyway?
The day,
Of reckoning is coming.
And darkness has to pay.
The cancer in our soul is neither black nor white, but colored in the lines of silent southern gray.
You can’t pretend that it isn’t there,
Or that there’s nothing left to say.
It’s calling you calling you.
And we can not stay the same.
We dare not stay the same.
Will you hear that call today?
And try as I may,
I simply cannot pretend it’s not today.
Or say that it’s ok.
Or
Push
It
Away.
But what do I know about that,
Anyway?
I hear the Wind I think,
And He's calling
Out my name.
Very familiar unrecognized melody.
Longing for harmonies.
Crying,
Out for change.
A Holy Wind,
Crying,
Out for change.