The wind understands
Standing cynical and numb on the cliffside, watching the waves flow, tumble, then crash up against the jagged rocks below.
Little bubbles of sea foam pop and crackle as they slide across the rocky beach shore.
The water ebbs back again to repeat the cycle; it goes back home just to be pushed out again
The salty sea breeze catches your loose hair,
just a few strands at first,
just enough to feel… something,
just enough to remind you something is there.
Before long, the wind picks up
and tosses your unbounded hair around in swirling gusts of unbridled resilience,
to get an easier path to whisper sweet nothings into your ear,
promising flight and unwavering freedom,
promising serenity found in the unending horizon,
promising harmony and complete wholeness.
The wind understands.
The wind empathizes with your pain.
The wind draws thin comforting fingers across your cheek
and breathes compassionate vows into your restless soul.
“The wind understands,” it promises.
You look down in shame, knowing no one is to be trusted enough to believe such things.
“Just come with me, my meek child. All will be well.”
The wind tempts as it brushes your hair behind your ear.
The wind runs down your neck, ruffles your dress, and spreads your arms wide as the wings of the gulls over your head.
The wind slips down your sleeve to billow your skirts.
The wind beguiles you closer to the cliff’s edge,
“To get a better feel of the openness around you,” the wind assures.
and in the moment the wind runs through your fingers,
you feel enough of the sky that for a moment you believe the whispering wind siren.
You finally let go and let the breeze sweep you up,
lifting you into the vast sky.
You embrace the promised freedom and smile at every peaceful whip of wind
right before you are thrown into the sea
and the awaiting rocks.
Copyright © Maxine Matea | Year Posted 2026
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