Poetry

Poetry By Redhawk

(Jim Francek)

Choices in Windtime

The howls of the wind
blow against the trees.
pushing,
pressing from nowhere.

Like the howls of wolf
winds run between the branches,
scratching out their journey,
in the unmarked gray skies of winter.

To be alone...
to be alone in the woods,
knowing the absolute terror
of not speaking your own voice.

To feel abandoned
open to the elements
of water, and ice,
on a fast moving flow
of newly opened winter’s river.

Moving to fast,
and not fast enough.

To not know
if your river
will lead to a crushing waterfall
or the flat safe water of summer.

What difference...
a turn of attention
can make.

It matters not...
as long as the winds that press with sounds of terror
carry us to passion, clarity
and light.

No more a twig
twisting... twisting in wind,
but a sail set
for destiny.

By Redhawk
1/28/96

The Pathfinder’s Way

Centering drum ringing in my soul,
strike the beat that livens my heart.
Something deep stirs within...
is it dragon of defeat ?
or the voice of one found.

Listen,
listen to the echos of the heart,
knowing that when I touch its’ sound,
the world changes,
rejoices in this homecoming.

Deep within the darkness
of the swamp,
stirs the new found voice,
ready...
ready to shout,
ready to shout... I am.

Without silence,
the soul’s stirings
cannot be heard.

Without silence,
pathfinder lies fallow
in the web of noise and speed,
without ears to hear,
or heart to stir.

By Redhawk
2/12/96